


Part 2 - Broken Bits: A Love Story

by MsAditu



Series: Broken Bits: A Love Story [2]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29539083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAditu/pseuds/MsAditu
Summary: Based on the story of Astarion, as played in current "Early Release: Baldur's Gate 3."  Part 1 is a series of relevant, connected interactions from the canon game (Astarion and diverse F/PC perspectives). Part 2 moves from Faerun to the real world, and Part 3 will conclude in Faerun, non-canon storyline.  Astarion - He's like having a security blanket if your security blanket could knife a dude.Lemons throughout - it's an elf thing.  (Really, look it up.)The traumatized recognize each other - a romance is born from their mutual ashes. A story of self-realization, autonomy, and light BDSM, vampire-style, because Faerun lacks good therapists.In three parts.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Series: Broken Bits: A Love Story [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170155
Comments: 38
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue:  Naissance

**Author's Note:**

> Images: https://msaditu.livejournal.com/20572.html
> 
> The Playlist is here, if anyone wants a fast link to the music. I'm just using it so I don't throw any repeats.   
>  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5phNAYOAEA1g4rL9OD7hvl?si=a8176139c3034544

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick note to those who would prefer not to read references to some unpleasant things listed in the tags, there are references in here.
> 
> The Prologue is in Faerun, that will change with Chapter 1.
> 
> Going forward, the protagonist will be playing herself.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Part 2's prologue, where the part of our protagonist is played by Ut, our favorite warlock.
> 
> Thank you to Larian for your continued game improvements and to WotC for many years of coolness.
> 
> Unofficial addition to the soundtrack is "Fix You," by Coldplay. Courtesy of Spotify.

Utukku awoke slowly, she realized that she slept alone. Somehow, she was not doused in blood - she wondered how in the world he had taken such care of her while she was asleep. 

_Of course he’s awake, though. He’s a full Elf . . . and a vampire._

It was a stark reminder of the multitude of things that lay between them. Still fully nude, she leaned up on her elbows and surveyed their bower in the early morning. Everything hurt, but in such lovely ways. 

She located her lover across the way at the eastern most point. She lost her breath. He wore only his trousers, and he welcomed the sun's rising with reverence. It fell on his face, limned his outline, and turned his pale skin to the lightest gold. He stood, arms out, hands up, soaking in the warmth and light. 

_By all the gods, he is beautiful. He certainly must have been the most lovely of those lured to Cazador._

_My poor lover, being denied the sun for centuries._

_I hate to bother him._

Watching him, her eyes traced an odd set of scars that traced his entire back. It was such a shocking reminder of his long captivity, at the soul crushing eternity he had already withstood, surviving by releasing his hold on morality, on self control, humanity. On caring. On . . . Love. 

The characters were in a rough circle, some sort of seal that covered his entire back. It was infernal, but she only recognized a very few symbols - "obey," "time" - maybe "eternity?" "Slave." _Gods._

Astarion suspected she was awake, but he could not bring himself to turn quite yet. Everything was still terrible, but in this one small moment, he was actually happy. If only it could last. He was sated, on so many levels. He had won his paramour, somehow, and she had not denied the broken parts of him, but instead made love to them with the sweetest abandon. She even allowed him to set their pace but for the smallest teasing - somehow, the fear and rage that he associated with intimate contact had stayed buried. It only raised its head about an hour before dawn - he had to extricate himself from long limbs and mussed red hair. 

The new reality felt a bit like a poorly fitting coat, but he was cautiously hopeful about one thing for the first time since . . . well, he couldn't remember, actually. Still, it was . . . nice. 

He turned finally to face her, and she saw that small hope, but the pain and fear were exposed too. He let her see him, the real one, let her see the broken shards in that dim light. It was raw, horrifying. She felt a terrible rage at the creature that had come so close to breaking him. 

She would see him staked in the sunrise while Astarion looked on. She would watch him burn to ash, unable to hurt anyone ever again.

Astarion must have recognized the emotion in her face, his manner gentle but clearly hating to have exposed such things to a new lover on the sweet morning after. 

He turned back away, unable to bear witness to her infection with even the smallest hint of his sickness. "You're awake. I thought you'd be exhausted after last night." His voice was amazingly steady. 

"I don't know." He could hear the smile on her face. "I might even go again." 

_Gods, she's still eager. I can't dream, but I swear this isn't real._ "Tempting, but I don't think this is the best time." He didn't want to return to the others. The minutes slipped away, as the sun rose a bit more. 

"Is everything all right? You didn't seem to be entirely . . . there last night." 

_She has no idea. Still, she's alive, so there's that._ "I was holding back some, that is true." He swore he could feel his dead heart break, just a little. _How can she doubt - Gods, it was amazing_ _._ "As delicious as you were, I didn't want to risk going too far." 

She heard what he did not say. He had been afraid, worried he would kill her while they made love. 

It was . . . sweet.

He clearly was pained, forcing himself to keep the mood light. "Shall we return?" 

She was not entirely willing to let him pass over the darkness, suspecting that they needed to address it in some small way for his mind to rest. "In a moment. I wanted to ask about . . . Your scars." 

He stopped moving and went silent. When he spoke, it was in that neutral voice he used when things were too sharp to touch. "It's a poem. A gift from Cazador." She didn't have to see his expression to know it was ragged with memory. "He fancied himself an artist and used his slaves as a canvas." That night of suffering and his own complicity in what followed, the opposite of their night of passion, bled into his voice. "He made a lot of revisions as he went."

Astarion hated it all in that moment, the pain, the fear, the hopelessness that had created such sharp places in his soul. That had been one of countless, endless nights that Cazador had forced him to be intimate, brought him with his power in screams and torture, in return for his gruesome gift. 

Turned to the sun, he couldn't keep the leftover horror from his expression. Still, he knew he must face her, she needed to know what she took on.

She stood, unsure if she should go to him. When he turned, his pain shone as naked as her marked body. 

He drank in the sight of her, torn and bruised a bit, mussed red hair falling down her back. 

_Mine._ He was overwhelmed, her lovely dove gray skin was beautiful and smooth, pearlescent in the early sun. He had turned her down, but he would have buried himself in her again. Damn the others, likely already awake and waiting. 

"Why did he write it in infernal? Isn't that the language of devils?" 

It felt like a punch to the gut. "Infernal?" _What did he take from me?_ "I don't know." He saw her fear, the echo of his own, and immediately sought to calm it. "The man is insane, who knows why he did anything." 

_He didn't know. Gods above._

Astarion put on a smile, eyes devouring her. "Let's go before the tieflings get into more trouble for us to deal with." 

She had to grin, Gods he made her feel beautiful. They dressed, the two of them silent. They returned to the camp, the shadows of what would come when they spoke to the druid put a haze over the bright morning. 

**Dammit, that's all wrong - don't just leave . . .**

**Oh, to Hell with it.**

**~key click~**

Darkness.


	2. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome home to our world, dear Reader. Does it feel as weird to be reading in the Now as it does to be writing here?
> 
> Still, Fluff is Life, so here we are, letting the magic do its thing. I'm excited for this whole Part 2, not gonna lie.
> 
> Watch out for a couple little spoilers, although if you read the rest, I'm going to guess it's nothing you don't already know.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC for making all those other chapters so much easier than this one.
> 
> Unofficial soundtrack for this chapter is "Guaranteed," by Eddie Vedder, courtesy of Spotify.

I logged out, but as had happened more and more often lately, I felt strands of emotions and thoughts still stretching from me into the ether like old cobwebs. 

I sat back in my chair, exhausted and vaguely annoyed. 

I swear that bedamned vampire was designed to fire every protective neutron in my head. I mean, I get it, right? Character growth, time and trust and all that. But I couldn't really come up with another video game creature that needed to die horribly as much as Cazador Szarr. 

Was Astarion on the up and up? Probably not. If ten percent of what we knew was true, was it enough to spark the same reaction? Yep. 

_It’s a game, these ties would be easily broken if there was a problem, right? I have been deep in several games - this is clearly just a mix of my mental health and good writing._

_Could sure use a smoke, though._

_Yeah, yeah I know._ Bad, right?

I’ll admit, self-medicating with cigarettes and video games wasn't exactly great. In my defense, my pills stopped the panic attacks, but if anything, the dreaming was worse and my thoughts more invasive. 

I couldn’t tell you why my symptoms had gone in the wrong direction for the last couple weeks. I was spending time in one of my favorite restful activities, but my brain remained on overdrive. I slept, but I woke up exhausted whether I dreamed or not. 

_I figure I am probably on edge waiting for another freaky dream that was just a touch too real for comfort - the last one had been a real punch in the face._

I pulled myself out of my chair, and I grabbed a sweater. On my way outside, I passed the pile of scribbled notecards strewn across the floor in their exact position from my last work day and flipped it off. At this rate, they were gonna have to write themselves. 

Irritated unreasonably, I wandered out onto my porch with lukewarm coffee to watch it rain, hoping it might soothe me. I lit a cigarette with one of the last matches in the book, barely getting it done. Everything was cold and damp.

I watched the smoke circle out into the weather. It was raining, but riding the line of freezing, which is why I was stuck here. Normally, late afternoon was the time of day I would get the hell out of my house, go for a walk or a quick drive, maybe buy cigarettes or a bottle of wine. But of course, a snowstorm was coming behind the rain, so I wouldn't be going anywhere tomorrow, either. 

Good thing I had plenty of coffee and vino.

I was on break from my adjunct position at the university, but I'd been working from home for months. Luck had given me research funding right before society flew off the damned rails. I hadn't spoken to anyone for days, though, and it was clearly getting to me for the first time ever. Maybe eventually even the neurodiverse need other humans - who knew? 

The entrancing sensory influence of rain and smoke finally gave me a little distance from my emotions - it felt like the strands of the game finally released their hold on me. It was suddenly easier to think.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but since that last dream, it just felt like all my creativity had just wandered off somewhere. I had two unfinished paintings, one still on the easel; my piano had been abandoned mid-session three days ago, and my research had come to a screeching halt last week. 

It was out of character, but the only explanation I had was that being cooped up was getting to me at long last, no matter how unlikely that seemed: I must have finally been hit by the lack of human contact. 

Heavy thoughts for a Saturday morning. I needed to clear my head, dig out of the darkness running its feelers through my mind. One would think that my inner shadows would eventually quit taking over, but that just didn't seem to be the case. 

The sad thing is that I could tell you exactly what behavior patterns were at fault - so if the fancy letters after my name could start helping with my own shit, ya know, cool. Unfortunately, knowing the right things doesn't matter when it comes to following your own advice. 

My mind turned back to that scene, _yet again_ , to what such a bittersweet event deserved, the morning after a momentous first for an abuse sufferer like myself. Not what it had gotten, that's for sure. 

_I mean think about your choices for your love interests in that game. "Too bad" is rude. "Abandon ship" is completely chickenshit. "It is going to be okay" is probably the worst. He's too frigging smart to not see all the ways the situation could light on fucking fire - a complete mental break, a violent and horrible death, or eternity as a monster of one type or another, or worse, both._

I had made the mistake of looking up vampiric mindflayers. That was . . . pretty horrifying.

Anyway, what did he need to hear? What did my character need to have said or done? 

More to the point, what would I have needed those few years ago when I finally had said enough? 

_Take the time and space you need. It wasn't your fault. You deserve love, not everyone is an abuser, there are better people, love doesn't have to be a struggle, it can actually just be easy. Fights and disagreements don’t have to be abusive. On that note, sex doesn’t need to be transactional, lovemaking can be about power and relationship both. Frankly, it’s hawtest when it is. Trust and consent are sexy, because empowerment is sexy. Your boundaries count. Don't become the thing you hate._

I am no too-nice side character anymore, though. The part of me that had turned bitter had a very different opinion. It was still pissed off. 

_Friggin’ run like the wind. I don’t believe in fixing the broken ones. Not anymore. They take everything you have, and when you run dry, they just demand more_. 

Better find a way to keep walking on your own. You can’t fix anybody, and nobody wants to fix themselves.

 _Bitter me is kind of a bitch_. I grinned and stubbed out my smoke, but stayed for just a moment longer. Mist brushed my face, and that feeling of expectation that always presages a storm hung in the air.

I had to think that all this, the dreams, the obsessive thoughts of storyline and characters, was my brain’s way of finally dealing with my ex. I guess if some video game becomes a breakthrough, then extra points to the writers for writing about this shit in a way that resonates with real life. 

_Whee_. 

To be clear, I was free of abuse now, living on my own, more or less functional with a solid trifecta of therapist, psych, and meds. Unfortunately, once that brokenness rents space in your brain, sowing the self-doubt, the self-hate, the loss of authentic feelings . . . is anyone ever really the same again? 

Once suicidal ideation is a thing, it stays a thing. It’s just at different volumes at different times. It was sure as hell better away from my abuser.

Sometimes though, I didn't feel all that free, and I still didn't trust anyone, especially men. Also, I didn't trust myself to deal with them reasonably anymore. 

If you don't catch the warning signs, you can get remade into something that suits your abuser’s purpose, and it's sometimes so slow that you don’t even notice. One small piece of you every day, then one day large chunks of experience, of emotions and opinions, are just gone. It might be a shitty survival mechanism, but when your best choice is numbness, it absolutely helps. 

_Yeah, I get Astarion, way too well_. 

I kept all my baggage mostly under control, or I had until these damned dreams started. 

I hadn't thought too much of the first one - it had only flashed for a moment, and I had woken up right away. I hadn't even lost any time at all. 

The second one was strange. I drifted off, felt like I was awake somewhere else. I watched a scene unfold, and I just knew something was wrong. That one, I still remembered feeling like the dream creature was oily, that my character was getting that corruption all over her and that it might not come off. It was after that dream that the strange sensory and emotional stuff started happening. 

But that last one, it was messed _up._ I swore my character had spoken to me. The realism had increased as the dream went on. By the end of it, I would have sworn that I held the dream Astarion’s hand, that I was the one pulled into those tar-black eyes, unable to find my way to struggle against him.

I had not slept much that night.

Honestly, I hadn't slept much _since_ that night either. Something needed to give.

_I am no clinician, but I feel like it might help me to help him._

_I wish I could meet him and talk as someone from our world, away from the fear and the threats to his safety, respond in a way that might help him identify the panic attacks for what they obviously are. Help him find a way to manage his vampiric condition, like we do with things here, rather than treating him like a pariah and forcing him to the outside of society where further trauma and desperation almost guarantee a shite outcome._

_And if I’m looking anyway, dig into the memory loss and the psychosis and sociopathy that the D &D folks tell us come with vampirism, and see if that is even related, or if it’s all trauma based in being enslaved by a fucking insane person like Cazador for centuries. Let’s be honest, when those rules were written, we weren’t exactly real up on mental health. _

_Shit, we still aren’t._

A sudden strong breeze blew early winter raindrops into my face. I swore I caught a faint whiff of sulphur. 

_Well that's not creepy at all, considering._

Still, it was getting colder, fast. _Okay, then, fun time is over_ \- I had a faux fur throw and a lovely fireplace waiting inside. I took one last bracing look at the outdoors and returned to the house. 

Lost in thought, I poured myself a cup of lukewarm coffee, flipping the hot plate on for the third time. I put my mug in the microwave, replacing and dumping the one I'd forgotten in it an hour ago. 

I added a bit of booze to my cup with some hot coffee, then I padded back to the living room in sock feet. I flipped on the gas fireplace, pulled out my phone, and curled up in the corner of the couch. The lovely soft gold of flames flickered shadows around the room, familiar ones, warmth and home.

I flipped through some news and social media, but my attention waned and sleep called. I took just a moment to rest my eyes . . . 

* * * * *

 **what is this now** what is this now _what is this now (what is this now)_

my voice echoes away into the trees the woods are familiar mist and damp and silent it is suddenly nighttime but that feels wrong 

**It’s another dream, isn’t it?** isn't it? _isn't it? (isn't it?)_

I know this place Astarion's dream where is everyone? something moves back in the trees away from me it's hella fast the imaginary filaments are real in the dream and they trail behind it

 **actually me too** me too _me too (me too)_

I pull several off my fingers but there is always more Silvery and fluid, tiny shocks of energy sparkle when I pull them 

_~yessssss it's jussssst a dream hello little moussssse where did you come from~_

the voice is sibilant, and it's only speaking in my mind I can see the figure far ahead up in the fog but it's so fast it slips behind me then to the side I try to move away and it follows 

_~I don't know you and you're diffffffferent why~_

the thing slips past me on my right as it speaks it's humanoid but not human it seems part of the fog but it has form its just moving too fast to identify why is there always a creepy monster what, is this the Upside-Down? look out for the Demi-Gorgon or the Jabberwocky yikes

 **different than what exactly** what exactly _what_

The echo cuts off suddenly. 

_~shhhh He's here don't move don't go yet wait shhhh~_

The ideas all run together, and the cold weight of the thing slides across my mouth and shoulders, quieting me and pressing me into a crouch. I fall silent and make myself the mouse, because I can feel something too, cold and seeking. 

This new presence feels huge, it is the mist and the forest. This one is evil, a black hole that would swallow us both, unable to be satiated. 

I'm reminded of the description of Gale's orb. 

The thing that spoke to me moves off to my right and out into the fog. 

_Seems like it might be time to wake up? Uh, anytime now._ I pinch myself on my hand, and it hurts. Nothing else happens. 

**_~where are you can't hide from me your luck will run out just come back~_ **

Nothing moves, but the ringing voice tries to squirm its way into my mind, I can feel it seeking to overtake my will. 

I picture a void around me, invisible, secure, and the geis's demand lessens. Who knew my short college age fascination with Wicca would be useful? _Fuck you, buddy, I know enough of spelling to keep you out._

**_~I know you are here come out, damn you you are bound~_ **

Frustration comes into the voice when the more gentle words go unanswered. When nothing shows itself, the cold disappears as quickly as it had come. 

_~sssssafe you protect yourssssself good you are resssssourceful~_

"Who was that? Where is this, exactly?" 

_~it isssss the middle place~_

The thing slides close past me. I swear it sniffs me. I move away, slowly. 

_~oohhhh it isssss_ you _but it isssss more you than before~_

It makes a creepy keening noise, desirous, almost excited. 

"Back off, I don't know who or what the hell you are." 

_~an admirer such deliciousssss power you are different where did you come from little ssssstrange human where have you been hiding the ressssst of you~_

I couldn't gain any distance from the creature. Up close it was indistinct, featureless. It brushed against my arm like a cat, its filaments sparkling against mine. It wound itself around me, holding me from moving further. 

_~you should ssssstay a bit~_

It let off a hiss that sounded strangely like laughter. I struggled against it, panicking as it became hard to breathe. "Let me go . . . what the hell?"

_~the door opensssss interesssssting you wake little moussssse~_

It was right, I could feel myself waking 

* * * * *

up

I lifted my head, dragging myself out of sleep, but it felt like coming out of the dream was heavy. Nothing felt quite real on this end. _So,_ _t_ _hat was awful_. 

Of course, my coffee had gone cold again. I wondered how long I had slept this time. I certainly did not feel any better for it. I eyed my computer from the couch distrustingly. _I feel like I should unplug it and put it out on the porch like the television in Poltergeist. "They're here," where "here" is apparently Creepy Faerun Hell._

I realized I’d slept past noon - I had been out for two hours. That was new, maybe the dreams were transitioning into normal sleep finally - the first few dreams had been aligned with the time I slept, and that had been really disturbing.

I dragged myself back to the kitchen to have a bit of something for lunch, but ended up just heating my coffee again and grazing while it heated up. 

I figured I might as well go play again, since my brain was going to be stuck in Faerun anyway. I turned on the hot plate for the fourth time, and took my cup back to my computer. I clicked on the game logo, and a feedback of power hit my power strip and knocked it offline. 

_Dammit all_. _This day continues to bite._

I glared at my mouse as if this was all its fault, only to notice the red mark on the back of my hand where I had pinched myself in the dream. _Wait, why is that there . . . ?_

I tipped my head in consideration of the mark, and then I found a knife at my throat. A beautifully familiar voice growled into my ear. "Where am I, demon?" 


	3. Novel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, introducing our favorite vamp to civilization, tiny bits at a time . . . need to get that dude a mani pedi at some point. 
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC for being such inspiring sorts.
> 
> Playlist addition for this chapter is "Graveyard," by Halsey, courtesy of Spotify.

Well, this was something. I slid my eyes carefully to the side, confirming that I had, in fact, just lost my mind. My eyes widened further at what waited for me behind my chair - moonlight curls, chocolate raspberry eyes . . . elven ears. 

“Astarion.” My voice wobbled. _Oh yeah, I've lost it for sure._

"You clearly have me at a disadvantage. What in the Hells is going on?" That voice poured into my ear like some sort of heavenly latte. _Oh, my lucky, lucky characters._

“I haven’t the slightest clue, my friend, but you, uh, you can't be here. So just . . . go back, okay? This is, oh boy, this is really bad." _That’s me, smooth talking under pressure. Yep._

I slowly turned my head and lifted my hands, hoping it came across as conciliatory. If I had to talk my way out of a high stress situation, I might as well stab myself.

I wasn’t handling the crazy rush of conflicting emotions real great - on the one hand, _he_ was in my house. I was looking at him, literally right this minute. I felt like that deserved a moment of awe. 

On the other, visions of drained neighbors (or their unfortunate pets) lying dead in their yards and ET-level government military medical shit spun out in my brain like silly string on fire. I wasn't sure . . . when a supernatural creature shows up in your house, do you break your phone in half first or just dump it in the toilet - maybe black paper over the windows? _Hey Alexa, light yourself on fire, k thanks._

Or, and I was just spit-balling here, maybe I should call my psych and get some antipsychotics.

Eyes hard, he flashed the smile of a predator, and it gleamed like the edge of the dagger that brushed the skin on my throat. _Oh, shit._ "We are not friends. Where have you taken me, demon?" 

I lowered my eyebrows, doing my best to show I was serious - as serious as I could be while he threatened me with death, anyway. "I’m not a demon, just plain human - and I didn’t bring you here. _You_ just showed up in _my_ house." 

It didn't show, but I was approaching a meltdown, aka crazy-person screaming. This needed to de-escalate fast, and it was clearly going to be up to me to make that happen. Things had jumped from fine to fucked, so I really couldn't afford a full freak-out just this minute. 

_I’ll do that later._

I really wished I had turned on some lights - the dull winter day wasn’t bringing much light into my house, and Astarion looked a bit demonic himself lit by the fireplace behind him in my dim living room. It didn’t help that he was trying to be terrifying. He was really good at it. 

He waited, refusing to respond. I didn’t say anything, either, just took in straight up, real-life Astarion. A standoff with Astarion had not been on my agenda, but damn, he looked good in person. He had shown up from nowhere, either magic or sudden onset hallucination, so I had to assume he could disappear the same way. I took mental notes for later, assuming I had a later. _At least if he slits my throat, I die with a view._

His hair looked so soft; it wasn't really gray in real life, it was the whitest silver-blonde I had ever seen. Freckles sprinkled across his face just so, his eyes were every bit as mischievously enticing, but it was all hella real. And close. And did I mention his mouth and the way his leathers traced his shoulders? 

_Be still my heart. If this is just my brain, let's not fix that shit. Insanity is damned beautiful._

"You are being stubborn for someone with a knife at her throat." His voice was ice-cold and mad as hell. I'd guess that was not a good sign with a 300 year old vampire - stories agreed that the old ones found it difficult to adjust to changes, and crossing into another reality was an awfully big change. 

I looked at him blankly while my mind finally caught up with his frustrated mien, spurting out a stream of consciousness as it did so. "Sorry, I have some difficulties with people, and you just gave me a bit of a shock. You'd tell me if you were a hallucination, though, right? Oh heavens, let me think, you can't be here, maybe put the knife away?” 

_Hang with me girlie, you gotta be on this one for us._ Self-talk had never been my forte, but I balled up my fists and concentrated on breathing like a normal person. 

"I could slit your throat right now." 

_It will be okay, you're fine. Think. Big cannons. Concentrate on him, you asked and something sent him. What's your big plan, oh great and powerful one?_

Inspiration hit like the spray of a hose to the face, but at least it arrived. _Gotta let him know who I am. Of course, that's going to piss him off again, but kicking the can down the road is still better._

Besides, a girl's gotta do something when the guy of her actual dreams is within reach. "I mean obviously, yes, you absolutely _are able to do that_ , as I can fully attest. But you promised to stab me through the heart, quick and clean. So be done with it, then." 

He let me go like he'd been burned. "What did you say?" His voice sounded a bit strangled. He moved to the side of the couch, dagger still at the ready. 

_Step one. Progress._ "You promised, when we met before. It's me, I don’t know of a better way to explain."

"I don't know you, human. Whatever you look for here, you will not find it. Send me back to my companions."

"I didn't bring you here, so I have no idea how to get you home. I'm sorry." I shook my head, potentially seeing some doubt in his eyes, finally. 

"Just tell me who you are, then. Those words are not yours." 

I really had no idea how to go forward without sounding completely nuts. "I’m Ut.” He didn’t look less confused. “Rain? Liss?” _That’s the one._ He looked haunted. “I - uh - I thought about how I wanted to talk with you, you know for real, and here you are." I tried a small smile which failed on receipt. 

"You speak in riddles." His eyes narrowed, and his voice quieted; if anything, that was actually scarier. "I have never met you before. I will ask once more, and I would suggest you find your way to telling the truth. Who in the bloody hells are you?" 

It was clear he was thrown off by my lack of fear of him, and he took it as me somehow not taking him seriously. Even if I hadn't endeavored to catch his eye in the game, I would have been similarly blasé. If you gotta go, getting killed by a hot elven vampire was pretty kickass, particularly when you had a lifetime of suicidal thoughts to back it up. _Suicidal ideation - making people less afraid of death since the birth of human thought._

"I'm not any sort of threat to you - do you think you really need the knife out? Come on, it's not like you're ever truly unarmed." 

The dagger inched back up. 

I didn't wish to quibble any further. It’s not like I was going to sway him, best to stick with the benefit of shock. This was completely ridiculous, and I lacked interest in dealing with whatever underlying illogical emotional crap was floating around in here. 

"Astarion, please." I scowled at him, frustration bubbling out. _This is going nothing like I envisioned._ "For the love of all that's holy, you are a terribly scary vampire. I'm properly intimidated, okay? Can you put the fucking dagger away now?" 

He raised his brow at my growing temper, but his voice was as smooth as flowing water, his eyes carefully blank. "Pardon me, but 'scary vampire?'" 

Meeting his carefully veiled eyes made my head hurt - I hadn’t realized that I depended so heavily on his regard for . . . me? Us? This wasn't right, not at all. I put my hands over my face, blocking out the sensory overload. _Oh, that's better. Dark is definitely better._

My thoughts cleared a bit with lessened input. "You explained your situation to me at length, but you have to know that your vampire traits are as clear as your elven ones. Besides, while your hilarious commentary is charmingly witty, 'Raw steak - dripping,'" I did a poor imitation of his voice, “obviously means 'still mooing.' I am not a complete idiot, you know. Last I heard, elves don't have fangs." 

_There. That'll do something, right?_ I resisted the insane urge to laugh. 

If it were possible, his voice became silkier. "Were I such a monster, you _should_ be more concerned for your own neck." I peered at him through my fingers trying to gauge his mood. He was still worried and distrustful, but I thought his sense of humor had finally showed up, dark and curious. 

“I trust you. If you kill someone, they are a bad guy. I am _not_ a bad guy, ergo, you won’t attack me. You promised that, too.”

He made that so-Astarion-like movement where he turned his head away but still watched with laser focus. His face fell half into shadow. He must have seen something in my face, because he sheathed his dagger. “How do you know these things? You are not Liss, you are human if your claim is to be believed.”

I let my head fall back against the soft leather of my couch. “This is going nowhere, I don’t know how to convince you - maybe if I’d had any warning, but this . . . ” I gestured at, well, everything without raising my head. “I know I look different in this world, but that’s because we aren’t in . . . Toril.”

“Okay, say you are telling the truth. Where are we?” He looked more than doubtful, he looked confident that I was full of absolute crap. _And it’s just hawt._

“Earth.”

“Are you even trying to make sense? Your world is not named ‘ground.’” He tried to look angry, but he was struggling not to mock me for the level of ridiculousness he perceived in my words. I knew that snarky look far too well.

“Actually,” I sighed, “Your ground is called the earth because your world is based on mine. You know, you could totally quiz me until you are blue in the face, and it’s not going to convince you. I don’t know why I thought you would just, I don’t know, _know_ me somehow.”

“I would.” His voice was quiet and sure, and if I read it right, oddly . . . wistful.

I sat forward. “ . . . How?”

“If you were Liss, then I would feel you - there is a blood bond between us. Very weak, but it is there. We are not bound.” His expression was a bit lost.

 _That’s new to him, still, of course._ “I believe that is because you have not known me in true physical form.”

He leaned toward me, some slight threat in his shoulders. He gave me a sharp smile. “Oh, I have certainly . . . _known_ plenty.”

My mouth went completely dry, and every word flew out of my brain. A touch of confusion highlighted his lovely brow when my heart rate took off. I swallowed, twice. “Yeah I . . . ahem, yeah I know.”

“Perhaps you are offering a small proof of your . . . claim.” It was clear he believed I would recant at his threat.

_Not likely._

I scoffed at him. "Perhaps I _might_ , but if you think to intimidate me, you should know that I am fully aware that it can be . . . mutually sublime." My voice lost its confidence at the end, and I saw the comment register with him. The Hunger twisted behind his controlled facade. The monster was listening as well as the man - either that would be better or really, really bad. I hoped it was a good thing. 

Finally, he gave me a measuring look, his chin rose as was his habit. It was painfully familiar. _About time he’s listening._ "Truly, you don't fear the death a vampire could bring to you?" No doubt that question was high in his mind, as I appeared to be the second mortal in weeks that hadn't run from him, screaming. 

People can be real assholes when they identify someone as "different."

I gave into the urge to laugh, an unladylike snort. I stood up, wanting to be closer to his level to ensure he saw my face when I threw on the gasoline. 

It didn’t help make me feel more in control of the situation at all - with his boots, he still had a solid half a foot on me. "You actually did kill me . . . twice. Neither time was unpleasant - you were a bit overzealous, maybe - but it's not like I fought you. It's a bit of a compliment, honestly.” I think I was actually blushing, and darkness slid behind his eyes. I redirected the discussion, stat. “Besides, Death and I have been in negotiations for years, and as yet he's denied me.”

Maybe if his character had been only one-dimensional, maybe if I hadn't been buried under my own mental health stuff . . . but I had gone straight down the rabbit hole into Astarion's black reality, and honestly, fuck acting like I hadn’t. 

To think, at one point, I had not given him a second thought. The game companions were not the strongest; their personal choices were questionable, and I often found their behavior strange. He had seemed no different: just one more bitter person, desperate for power and disdaining personal growth.

Yet once I truly met him, his identity had unfolded with surprising complexity. He was likely gender queer, admittedly bisexual, he had suffered 200 years of mind control, slavery, and coercion before being kidnapped, purposely infected with a parasite, and nearly destroyed in a crash. Then he finally opened up to one of his companions. 

The guy that had somehow been dragged in front of me today balanced on the knife of normative behavior, looking for a workaround for his physical needs in a world that saw him as a mindless deviant. He confirmed himself that the default response to his condition was an immediate execution. I might not be a 300-year-old undead covered with torture scars, but I had been in my own hell, domestic abuse, gaslighting, and disconnection from my support structures. I'd suffered a lifetime of social abuse, from coercion to hazing that left me a silent suicide risk. 

I was done messing around pretending either of us were normal. 

My muscles relaxed by the tiniest degree now that I'd made a decision. "Can we start over?" I turned and padded back to the kitchen without waiting for his answer. "Would you like some decent coffee for once?" In a moment of true overthinking, I added, "How do you even drink coffee, anyway?" 

He gave me his best withering look, so much distaste packed in one expression, but he followed me, clearly mystified at how he had suddenly completely lost control of the discussion. He was unbelievably expressive - it was nice to be able to see clear delineations of emotion for once. 

"Don't look at me like that, do I strike you as some sort of vampire expert? You, sir, are a walking myth."

"Intentionally - fewer angry mobs that way." His eyes traveled across my kitchen, pausing on the light over the stove. His lack of familiarity put him further on guard, and he gave the coffee a suspicious look when I pulled it from the machine. 

I set a cup on the counter, then caught his expression. "Seriously, enough with the paranoia. I swear, it's just coffee, I'm literally drinking it too." I pinched the bridge of my nose, and set the damned coffee pot on the island. "Why don't you choose your own mug, then, and pour for us both?” _Confident front. Con-fi-dent._ I fidgeted surreptitiously. 

Amazingly, he did as I suggested. He took my cup out of my hand and poured me the fresh one, eyeing the glass carafe with poorly veiled interest. He waited until I took a drink, then refilled my cup for himself. _Holy paranoia._

_Smart though._

He took a sip and took a moment to let the experience sink in. His eyes unfocused just a tad, and I swear my heart fluttered just a little. _Yep, I’d stab somebody to see that expression for . . . other reasons._

My eyes twinkled at his obvious enjoyment. Clearly irritated that he had given away how impressed he was, he glared defensively. "What?" 

"My apologies, I am just happy to see you enjoying something for once. I didn't mean to take away from your experience of serious coffee. Carry on." 

_This is the least of what he should have after all of that time chained to that rapist bat-fucker._

He still stood ramrod straight, eyes constantly on the move. _Been there._

"You're looming." I took a sip of coffee, expression mild as I leaned back against my stove. His eyes glinted noticeably red in the stove light - it was disconcerting.

"I don't 'loom.'” His voice was haughty, but new laughter hovered at the corners of his mouth. His humor was so dry, he might as well have laughed aloud.

"Of course you do. All vampires loom. So does the elven nobility. It's part of the reputation - maybe even a requirement." 

"Your level of disrespect certainly echoes hers." His tone left no illusion that the observation was a compliment. “Now you will tell me what is going on." He sounded closer to his imperious self - a good sign. He turned and went back into the living room.

I rolled my eyes behind his back. "As you command," . . . _Your Elfness._

He appeared to miss my sarcasm, but I knew better. The man was cunning as hell - he was absolutely collecting tiny bits of information at feverish speed to get back the upper hand in this strange situation. That was totally fine with me. The last thing I needed was to get into a power struggle with Astarion.

_Ain’t nobody winning that battle._

He draped himself gracefully in the wingback. Anyone else would have looked slouched and lazy, but not him, oh no. He had one elbow over the arm, legs slung in the other direction, coffee in hand. He took another intrigued sip, looking more like a coffee ad than a person. Granted, he was wearing sleek leather armor - and if leather works, it _really_ works. 

I had always suspected that elves might be irritatingly graceful in reality, and I had definitely been right on target. 

_Enjoy your relaxed moment, my dear._

I still had to explain to him that he wasn’t real, that all his love interests weren’t real, that his entire life experience wasn’t real, and that he was literally the musings of someone else’s brain. Oh, and the piece de resistance - that he'd absolutely had sex with a video game avatar under false pretenses. More than once. 

Yeah, he was gonna be pissed. 


	4. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearing the air for some fluff in chapter 5 and some lemony goodness in . . 6 or 7? I have tons of content for Part 2, but no sense of timing. Your patience is always appreciated.
> 
> Please feel free to comment - this is like typing into the void. :D
> 
> Also, weigh in for Part 3 - would we rather end up with our darling rogue in our world for like, good, or stick our protaganist in Faerun until she gets killed by an angry badger one day? I can see good prospects on both sides.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC.
> 
> Add to the playlist, "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard, Marketa Iglova, courtesy of Spotify.

I spent a blissful moment imagining escape by, I don’t know, drowning in the bathroom sink or something. _He'd probably save me, the jerk._ Instead, I sat in the other chair, on the farthest side of the living room, fiddling with my mug. The silence grew long. 

He spoke first. _Point to me._ "I must admit, I am quite keen to hear how you've been watching us." 

"It's complicated." _It's all complicated . . . because I don't want to be the poor schmoe that has to tell you all the Bad News._

"I’ll try to keep up." His tone was droll, and he looked entirely bored. Had he still been on a screen, he might have fooled me, but he was broadcasting anxiety on all frequencies. There was no chance in Hades that he could hide it from me in person - I'd spent ten years learning to pick up on hidden agitation. I didn't blame him; like myself, he expected things to randomly light on fire. 

"Right. Well, your world is actually a . . . um, a story. I guess you could say I'm following along?" 

"So, a book." He languished in the chair, every bit his bedamned jaded self, all dreamy snarkiness. How could someone load that much doubt into three words? 

"Well, no. There's vid . . . Wait, no. Ah, moving . . . pictures?" 

"So then . . . theater?" He raised one of those slender brows and sipped his coffee, which he managed to make both judgmental and patronizing. I wanted to punch him in the face and then kiss it off. 

_Such resilience of personality in the face of all that shit - comeuppance was coming to Cazador from this one from the moment he picked him. The tadpole is the door, but Cazador had been playing with the weapon of his own death for 200 years. My God, he's fucking beautiful._

I held all these thoughts deep in my mind, trying to work through common knowledge. "I mean, yeah . . . Well, if the audience, well each audience person, gets to decide what the actors do." _There that seems ok._

He smirked. "Sorry, darling, but that sounds like an entirely different sort of theater. Not that I'd have any problem with that, generally." He leaned forward from his languishing pose, lips slightly parted, eyes intent. Visions of him giving me specific stage direction slid into my thoughts. 

_Gah! Not okay!_ I started breathing again, and his eyes positively lit up at my level of discomfort. 

"What? No!" _Actually, yes. "_ Well, maybe some people, but not me, really." _Technically._ I took a moment to take a drink of coffee and stop digging myself a bigger verbal pit. I glared into my mug. Everything that sounded most accurate was also the absolute worst. 

_Also, the Absolute worst. I'll let myself out. Like, really, immediately, the first bus ticket._

"Look, you weren't supposed to show up, I was just thinking aloud. I just wanted to see you in person, wanted to tell you that I have your back, and . . . " I trailed off when I realized how defensive I sounded. 

He put on that well-worn overconfident and patronizing smile. "I don't need your _assistance_. I am fine." He dismissed me with a wave and took a sip of coffee. 

"Really?" His eyes slid back to me over the cup at my long-suffering tone. "Oh well, then, since everything is perfect - nevermind, Lord Stoic." I wore my most neutral expression and sipped my coffee right back. _You get the real me now, you sexy, sassy thing._

He didn't pretend to miss the sarcasm twice. I saw the moment he decided to return fire. _Oh, boy, this might leave a mark._ "Very well, if I need a voyeur, I will be certain to drop you a note." 

"Voyeur?!" I nearly dropped my coffee. _Oh yeah, he also gets to say anything back._ "Oh for the love of all that is holy . . . " I eyed him suspiciously. "You're purposely making this more difficult." 

His eyes widened, all fake innocence at being called out. "Not at all, just asking relevant questions."

"Quit poking the crazy." He let out an actual laugh. "Despite whatever this is," I gestured between us, "you and Liss and the others aren't real here. That you are sitting there strongly implies that I have finally snapped. I'm sorry, but I created Liss - she's amazing, but she was never real. " 

He sat forward, immediately protective. "I will tell you this once, sorceress, you will speak of her respectfully." 

"She is mine, thank you very much, I'm _being_ respectful already. I'm sick of not speaking plainly to you. And again, just a human, not a mage." I pointed my finger at him, trying to hold my temper from pissing him off even more. _Win some, survive others._ "Don't ask for things until you know everything - I shouldn't need to tell _you_ that, of all people." 

"Obviously, I plan to ask for more detail next time I'm dying in the street," he said, the polite tone belying his snide return. _Fine, that was deserved_. "And you neither look nor sound anything like her, though you've clearly been spying like a gutless knave."

"Argh! Spying?!" _He's so fricking ornery!_

"What would you call it?" 

"A video game!" 

That gave him pause. "You believe it is a game - and us your pieces. So that was your role in all this - I must admit, your vexing disinterest in your own survival, so unafraid of death that you would anger the vampire in your living room, that is familiar . . . " He spoke to himself and then sighed, and I think my heart cracked. "It absolutely _is_ Liss." 

I looked away for a moment. "In my world, it _is_ a game, and my asking to see you was obviously a selfish choice. I did not think it through."

"So, I'm a pawn in some grand game." He leaned forward. His voice was suddenly, unbearably empty. 

I blinked back sudden, silly tears. "Well, I guess you could say that - but you _are_ in my living room, so . . . "

"Exactly what I don't understand. I am right here." 

"Apparently, yes." I looked heavenward. "With . . . well, everything you've been through, you deserved a gorgeous tiefling, and she's still there, but she can't fully speak my heart. You've been misled enough . . . " I gave a long sigh, putting my face down and letting my hair screen it. 

He narrowed his eyes. "But you are human." 

"Yeah, well. That is the only option in my world. No magic, no tieflings. No . . . elves, vampire or otherwise."

He remained silent. 

"Well anyway, you were . . . _are_ a pleasant surprise every time. For someone who regularly threatens to kill me, you are . . . “ my voice dropped to a whisper, “so damned captivating."

"Every time?"

"I have entered your story several times - Liss or Nightfall, Rainore, V. It resets every time, but we always meet the same way." 

He turned my claim over in his head, clearly affected, even if he still tried to hold onto doubt. "Tell me, then," his expression hardened further yet, ". . . how many times did you come to me in the woods?" 

_Damn his mind moves fast - onto this fresh hell already?_

I took another drink of coffee, but my hand was shaking. _Friendly reminder -_ _could have just kept lying!_ "All of them, except the first, because you turned me down." A flush crept up my neck. I could almost feel his eyes watching it climb - my breath grew a bit ragged as thoughts of his teeth in me blanked my thoughts. 

His eyebrows lowered just a touch, his interest piqued. His voice stayed deceptively mild. "What did you do then? Did you seek another?" 

"Ha! Gale's sneaky as a tomcat and Wyll lied to my face, and not by omission either. Lae'zel is rabid - you should never sleep with someone crazier than you. No, thanks - I got drunk with Shadowheart." 

His face cleared. "Ah." 

That pulled me out of my head. "I'm sorry, what is 'Ah'?"

"I will not need to trouble Gale or Wyll." 

"Trouble . . . ?" _Oh, fuck me, he's getting territorial before even confirming belief in my story?_

"Remove their spines for touching what is mine." He regarded me mildly. 

I blinked. _Males. Insane-o-matic regardless of race, creed, or curse._ "Well, that isn't fair at all - you passed." 

"Nothing is fair, in my experience. They should make better choices." He gave that predatory smile again. _Okay, then. Maybe I'll just keep to myself that Gale made a second play the next night._

I crooked an eyebrow at him. "Have you always been so damned arrogant?" 

A hint of charm ghosted across his face. "Yes." 

"Well, rein it in!" His eyes glinted with laughter at my frustrated outburst, though he kept his face serious as death.

His mental wheels turned in front of me, and I just wanted to drown him in blood and sex until he just fucking got happy. Way off the table, though - for all his play, Astarion was more tightly locked down than anyone I'd ever met. No cheating. 

I watched the animation leech from his face as he pieced the last pieces, the worst of it, together. I had not been prepared for the emotional swirl that he held in such perpetual check. I hadn't seen anything like it before - his stress played on my triggers like piano keys, yet nothing happened. "So. You reveal yourself as my lover, even while your false pretenses come clear." He swirled the coffee in the cup, face carefully neutral. 

I felt sick, imagining how he must feel. _If you buy a Corvette, it must suck to get a Yugo. Plus, you know, not existing and stuff._

"I doubt that it helps, but no. I was not party to any of . . . that. I mean I chose you, and well, obviously I decided to come to you, because I just . . . I mean, my God, have you met you?" My cheeks flamed, and I snapped my mouth shut. I felt stupid, embarrassed tears fought to spring free. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Clearly, you are real though, so this is just a hot mess of consent, now." # _MeTooFaerun_. "Anyway, I wasn't there, but I hope it wasn't, you know, awful, I guess." _Verbal artist I am not._

He didn't look up, just watched his mug. "Why the illusion?" 

"To a certain extent, it's not a choice. I mean, it's a good one, though, right? She's beautiful, deadly - funny as hell. I mean, I might last about half a day in your world before getting eaten by an angry badger, but Liss is fabulous." 

“I must tell you, I am not sure if I should be flattered to be chosen from across worlds, concerned at your clearly flawed decision-making process, or offended that you sent an automaton to make love with me out of pity." He gave me a significant look and trailed off. 

I had no idea how to respond - this was way outside my comfort zone. _Emotions. Yuck._ Frigging ginger coloring, I couldn't meet his eyes, but I knew exactly how red my face must be. 

"Pity, my ass. I really did want to . . . " _come on,_ _brain_ , "to know you . . . better." 

" . . . So to speak." My nervous fingers clinked against the cup, and my eyes flashed to his. His gaze was narrow, measuring. 

I quickly retreated to safer ground. "Just take the compliment and leave it, ok?”

“You show your regard by misrepresenting yourself and then abducting me.” There was a note in his voice that was new, mixed liberally with annoyance and amusement. 

“Well, . . . Sorta yes . . . I mean, no. It sounds bad put that way. I still don't know how you got here. I didn't do it." 

"Well, it's certainly a novel way to be seduced . . . I'm not complaining about that bit, except maybe the part where I was the only one who enjoyed it." Even though it was a terrible idea, I met his eyes. Despite his airy discussion of intimate moments, they were hard and determined. 

_Oh. Oh, no. That's pursuit, and he doesn't look like he means to back down. That wasn't the plan._

_"_ So what precisely are your intentions at this point? I frankly fear to ask."

 _Keep it together._ "Not that it makes anything better, but my plans are still the same, except for the part that I have to figure out how you can get home. We drive a stake through the rotten heart of that rapist rat-dung of a master vampire and figure out what the hell we're supposed to do with the horror-bugs. And I assume keep the world from ending or something."

"I'm pretty sure you know that wasn't what I meant." His eyes glittered red, and his voice slithered into my brain. I looked back at him with my jaw set, making very clear that I was stubbornly sticking with the only conversation I was willing to have. 

"Still, just to be clear - you plan to try to kill Cazador." He slipped out to the kitchen like he owned the place, bringing the entire pot of coffee back. He filled his mug while holding my gaze. _Damned showoff elves._

"I've been going with 'Abusive Bat-Fucker,' but we can call him by his name if you'd rather." 

"Actually, I prefer yours. 'Bat-Fucker' is quite the turn of phrase. Visually distinctive." He was still closed down, but his lips turned up. 

"I was coerced into . . . things at one time. I may not know your story, but I feared that might have happened to you, too, and it pissed me off." Stupid, rage-filled tears hung in my eyes, memory and empathy in equal parts. People were garbage sometimes. 

"We will have a discussion over who treated you in such a way." An assassin's cold eyes reflected my fireplace. I shivered. _Yeah, that's a bad idea._ "Now, I'm getting the idea that you don't follow advice. I warned Liss - well, you - that he kills or enslaves anyone who attempts to destroy him. He finds monster hunters particularly amusing to torture until he breaks them. Your true self would be a particular prize to him." 

"I will be damned, literally, before I risk him enslaving you again. He needs to die." 

His brows lowered into that infamous dangerous expression. _Oh, he's actually pissed._ "So why did you pretend to agree?" His conversational tone finally slipped. 

_Fine, you want to do this?_ "Please. Like you would have accepted anything else. You would do something idiotic to protect me, and I'm not going to allow that."

"Only if you gave me no other choice. You will agree not to engage with him." He crossed his arms, his noble personage convinced his words would be the end of it. _As if!_

"I will chase your gorgeous ass into the ground - and don't try to command me, you aren't the noble magistrate here. He goes through me to get to you."

"And he will!" He came across the room. His face was a lesson in fury, and he was on the far edge of yelling. "I cannot promise that he won't overwhelm the parasite. He will know everything I know, he will use your concern for me against you, and then force my blades to do his work." He placed his hands on the arms of my chair. His voice lowered. "You would leave me with that burden?"

I fought to keep my tone level, but it was a close thing with him crowding my space. "I will kick our companions' asses to get their help, even Halsin. He owes us for saving his corrupt followers - and his own short-sighted ass. I have every intention of calling in that favor. Besides," I was just angry enough to be honest, "I don't believe for a minute that you had no intention of using Liss to get to Szarr from the very first. Don't be a hypocrite."

His face froze for a moment, and he pushed off the arms of the chair. "Any prior intentions are irrelevant now. Your choice is noble, but I would almost certainly be forced to betray the existence of your world, a world without magic, to Cazador." 

"I will not leave you a slave, Astarion. The decision is made, with or without you. I'd rather have you angry at me and free."

He actually looked rattled. "There is not a single thing I have done in my entire cursed existence to inspire such resolve." 

"Nobody deserves redemption, Astarion, but that doesn't mean we leave them to their fate." I dragged myself to my fireplace, emotionally wiped. _Hey look, we already had a fight. Yay._

He regarded me silently for some moments. I finished my coffee in a last un-ladylike swig. My hair fell in my face again, right now a curly mass of auburn. It reacted to the day’s humidity with predictably annoying behavior. In frustration, I grabbed the length of it, which reached most of the way down my back, and tied it in a knot up on my head. 

He watched me, fascinated. “It suddenly occurs to me,” he paused until I gave in and made eye contact, scowling at him. His eyes regained a small light - apparently my eventual compliance was funny, "that I don't know your real name." 

"Oh.” It seemed strange to use my actual name. “Elisabeth. Just Lissa, though." 

His eyes sharpened to their finest point, lasered in on me. I felt like a dissected insect. "Well, Elisabeth," he rolled the syllables around his tongue like decadent chocolate, "you are not like anyone I know, are you?" 

I was angry, nervous at his attention, and irritated at how this had spun out of my control. I set my cup on the mantle and rolled my eyes. "I don't think I'm even like anybody I know." 

"I would believe that.” Just that quickly, he appeared beside me. I tried to keep calm, but my anxiety skyrocketed along with my awareness of him. “So, let me see if I can put some of this together, hmm?"

"Fine."

"So many questions, but I can't help but focus on you." His voice was low and sleek, prowling. He took a step toward me, and it was sheer nerve that kept me from fleeing. Out of habit, I subtly moved away from the fireplace to give myself room to move back. He noticed. "But, let's set some context first, yes?" 

I nodded, looking at him from the side of my eye. 

"Am I to understand that you don't know the end of the story either?" 

I heaved a sigh. "No, it's not finished. We follow Halsin's suggestion to take the Underdark path, and that is where it ends." 

"Shame.”

I nodded. It would be some time before we had more information. 

His tone grew businesslike. “It takes a real sadistic bastard to put someone through 200 years of torture only to inflict a mindflayer tadpole on them too.”

I pressed my lips together. 

"Did you have something to say?" 

"The game designers consider vampire spawn to be monsters, not people." My voice was not hoarse, and somehow that seemed wrong.

"Well, I give them full marks for accuracy."

"Stop it." 

He didn't respond, but he did move on. "They force us to fight goblins and gnolls, we get dropped into the middle of a druid rebellion . . . And the one light in the black hells of my existence was a marionette.”

My voice was small, already tired. "It upset me." 

"An interesting decision on your part, to bring a dangerous creature into your home, a decision we will certainly discuss as well." 

I frowned at him. "You're not a danger to me." 

He laughed, a dark, self-derisive sound that chilled me. His smile, edged with hunger and madness, glinted with sharp edges. "Oh, my dear lady, I am. I most definitely am, but I am fascinated that the mistress behind the marionettes called me to her side . . . “ His tone was raw sensuality, and a crawling heat slid its fingers through my veins. 

I objected immediately. “I didn’t do anything of the sort . . . “

He kept talking, silken voice wending along its way as if I had not interjected. “. . . simply to address the wrongs she feels she has done to . . . my virtue. I lost that long ago, by the way."

Warning bells went off as he lessened the distance between us with a vampire's speed. I took a reflexive step back, doing anything I could to make myself smaller and dropping eye contact, surprised by his movement. 

He went very, very still, his expression one I did not recognize. "The truth shows itself at last. In reality, away from illusion, you cringe from the monster." His voice was cautious and calm, but blood had been drawn beneath the surface. He was used to being feared - and my baggage had now made him feel rejected again. Terrific.

"No! . . . I mean, no, I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting you in my space just then. Not so good with meeting . . . new men, I guess." _Or dealing with men generally. Also people._ My hands trembled, embarrassment and reaction to his movement combined. 

"I will find this human who harmed you." It wasn't a question. He'd triggered a panic response, and he'd recognized it. 

"It is over and done. I understand being trapped and not knowing your own mind, though I have no idea what that must look like for such a long time without an escape. We humans are . . . short-lived things." A tear slipped out, thinking of how much longer he had suffered only to be victimized again. 

He regained the step toward me, slowly, and a cool hand wiped the tear from my cheek. "You,” my stomach dropped out at his gentle tone, “argue with a vampire spawn over his value, you small, foolish thing. Frankly, you are more reckless than even your illusions suggest." 

I met his eyes and gave a wry smile. "Such a charming way to call me a brave idiot." 

He laughed, the sound genuine and engaging. "Darling, your plain speech is refreshing. I find I am more curious than ever about this 'real.'" His fingers twisted a curl of my hair that had come loose from its knot.

I cleared my throat, feeling like it was closing up on me. He was so close, and I had no idea how to react to that. Hadn’t he just been holding a knife to my neck?

Cool fingers reached up to trail down my neck, and I shivered, remembering the description of that first fatal feeding. I looked up, and I could see that memory in his eyes too. His gaze moved from mine to my jaw, and I panicked, thinking fast on a way to pull things back.

"I offer you the hospitality of my home, then, since you are finally back to civilization after being stuck in a camp for weeks. Is there something that would make you feel more yourself?"

"You wish a detente." He chuckled, a quiet sound that promised a later reckoning. "I will allow it, for now. Real bathing. Gods, a tailor? The sound of the city. Good wine.” His voice grew quieter, a bit rougher, his eyes blacker. “ . . . Companionship.” 

I swallowed, mouth dry, aware that he saw my reaction to his words. I needed to set some mental boundaries. _Slow your roll._ He was hungry, and we had a feeling of intimacy left from the game. It promised nothing, and it guaranteed nothing else. His brown eyes with their small spark of red regarded me curiously. 

It was like swimming with a shark - I suddenly understood why Gale called him a tiger. At any moment, I might become prey. It would all be just fine, until it wasn't.


	5. Neutrality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, we find the calm in the center of the hurricane, normal things and new ones.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff while we can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC.
> 
> Playlist add is "Bone Dry" by Tristam, courtesy of Spotify.

So I realized both things were true at once: Astarion had been magicked into my house . . . and I was clearly unhinged. I suspected it when the vampire in my house was the only one of us concerned about me having a vampire in my house. It was pretty much confirmed when my thirst for said vampire appeared equal to his for my blood. 

My brain cheerfully pointed out that the reprieve he granted was temporary. 

“I vote we start at the top. Get cleaned up, and we can go drive a bit, make a stop or two.” Yes, getting the hell out of the closeness of my house. “I have a robe you can use and I'll launder your hmm . . . " 

I trailed off, realizing I had no clue how any armor worked, never mind his sleek Drow leathers. He looked at me expectantly, with a solid hint of amused patience as he waited for me to continue. “Sorry, it’s just that I will have to defer to you - is there something lining that leather that could be laundered . . . ? It would only take a couple of hours.”

"Gods, there most certainly is, love." His mood had improved by miles in a few minutes. "Coffee, pampering, a laundress, potential sex . . . you should have stolen me away sooner." A devastating wink followed his outrageous teasing.

"I didn't steal you!" I was keeping my head, no problem. Nope, none. _For instance not denying the sex bit._ "There is just one thing . . . The running water . . . Does that include pipes and so forth?" 

He threw a dark look my way. "Trying to kill me already?" The music was back in his voice. 

I blinked. "That's not funny." _But it absolutely was. I am in trouble._

"I was told that I'm hilarious." 

I wondered if eye rolling translated. _Smartass._ I turned and started walking toward my bathroom. "You know what, I am going to show you the shower, and I won't come save you when the screaming starts." 

"But that's the best part." 

_Oh, my God._ My lips twitched. "You miscreant. I refuse to be caught in your corruptive influence." 

"You want me to chase you instead?" I turned the handle and looked his way in time for him to give a slight bow. "Well, if you insist." 

My heart sped at the mental picture of what being captured by Astarion might include . . . Restraints, feeding . . . _Blast, he probably heard it, he's a walking lie detector._

I switched the light on. 

"By all the Hells." I ushered him into the room ahead of me and nearly ran into him when he stopped dead. No pun intended. 

He was staring at the oversized mirror like he'd never seen one before. "Astarion? I-is everything okay?" He looked at himself from every angle, entirely in awe. 

"Amazing." He leaned over the sink to see closer, then spoke into the glass. "You know, I haven't seen my own reflection since I died, but this . . . " 

_Oh._ "Good mirrors, right. You should see my spice cupboard and my freezer." _He is just adorable._ "I think I read somewhere that the reflection problem has to do with silver backed mirrors. It's a different metal now.”

“Quite surreal . . . Like no time has even passed.” He was very close to the mirror now. He met my eyes in the reflection. “What do you think - ageless and aristocratic?" _Yes._ He purposely lowered his voice. "Mysterious and seductive?" _So much._

“I think I should exit stage left."

"Ha! Finally a reference I understood. But please don't feel the need to rush off." He threw that teasing smolder my way, and I swear I forgot how to breathe for a moment. He leaned a hip against the counter, somehow still graceful. "I await your direction." 

"You're going to be the end of me, I can tell already." I pulled out some linens, and set them by the sink, slipping around him efficiently to show him the shower. 

"Tease." It took me a moment for his comment to connect with my brain, and I let slip a laugh. I glanced his way to return a little of his own medicine. 

Unfortunately, my brain short-circuited, finding him stripped of his leathers, revealing a black linen shirt and breeches beneath. Even though I knew what most of him looked like, it was far different to be reminded of it in person, in my own space. The bathroom seemed suddenly tiny - and I struggled to see anything but him. 

"So . . . The, uh, facilities." Damn my breathless voice. "The lever here turns on the water. All the way left is hot. The sink is the same for temperature. If you use the um, toilet for any reason,” _I really know less than nothing about him, “_ that handle clears the bowl." 

He watched me with that small smile, his lovely voice at its most intriguing. "You are a most gracious hostess." 

My brain was running like cold molasses. _Is there anyone who could turn this guy down?_ "It is the least I can do. If you will set your things outside the door, there is a robe that will fit you in the closet. Oh and the, uh, hot water will eventually run out, it's from a heated tank." 

Nothing else seemed immediately important, so I moved to escape the intimate space. 

"You continue to fulfill my every desire." Just that quickly, he moved in front of me, my hand in his cool one. He raised it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on my fingers, then turning over my hand and kissing my palm. 

I stopped breathing for a moment, enraptured by the reality of the moment. It was one thing to see him on screen, quite something else to feel him touching me. "Oh." 

He held it just long enough to completely clear every thought in my head, and then he added with a hint of a growl, "I'm sure I'll need more help, so don't hurry off. You can wash my back." He let my hand go, slipping his fingers against it as he went, and pulled off his shirt - a little show that burned directly into my brain. 

Trim muscles and all that lovely pale skin impressed upon me, finally, that he was really here. I lifted a hand before I caught myself and touched his shoulder. Smooth, cool like water, but firm and unyielding. Real. I slid my hand down his arm, a little awed that he allowed it. 

I took one last look at his face to see clear hunger in his gaze, ravenous. "Before I have an actual heart attack . . . I'm going to go down and . . . get your things going for you. It is . . ." I bit my lip debating what I could say without falling through the floor in embarrassment. " . . . nice to have you here. For real." 

I fled like a mouse scurrying under a cabinet, flushed, not trusting anything I would do. Cowardly or not, I made myself scarce until I heard the water start. 

I was a fair hand at rebuffing advances, but this was next level. I gave myself a pep talk over the washing machine. I was older now, wiser, and he could be gone back to his world at any time. 

_That's a valid reason for doing something idiotic, too_. _Dammit._

If he didn't disappear overnight, he was going to need some different clothes, and I was going to need to get my head on straight. I should have considered that he would be even more of himself unfettered from writing. Then again, I'd have done a lot more thinking in a lot more ways had I actually thought he would show up. 

I headed to the closet to find something that he could wear until we could get him to a store, but the feel of him beneath my hand stayed with me. 

* * * * *

When he finally exited the bathroom, a waft of mint shampoo and steam followed him out. "Incredible."

"I take it you ran out of hot water. Feeling better?" I had moved back to the couch, concentrating on the quiet sound of the fireplace and the play of light, idly scrolling through my phone. I hadn’t read a single word, and I was frankly hesitant to look his way.

"You live an extravagant life, darling." 

I still hadn’t turned, but I had to grin. "I really don't, nothing in there is expensive. There are many with far more than I. You found everything you needed?" 

"Far beyond . . . I know ladies in the city that would have you killed for your hair oils and soaps." He gave a quiet chuckle. "I admit to indulging in a small vanity with the pomade." 

I had found a pair of jeans, years old and always too big, a gamer t-shirt, and a dark gray hoodie. I'd even dug out an old pair of boxers I'd worn as shorts. _Grunge kids rejoice, we're back in business._ I had to give him back his boots, as I had nothing even close, but I'd thrown in some cool socks. 

I picked up the small pile of clothes. “I'll do one better - we'll run out and get you anything you could ever want, and a bottle of wine besides. I found you some clothes for now." 

I turned to hand them up to him, but was gobsmacked by a nearly nude male instead. Apparently, Astarion had decided against the robe; instead a white towel was slung around his hips, leaving the rest of him directly in my line of vision. Water-darkened curls lay against his neck and face, smoothed carefully in place, long legs and sleek muscles, skin dusted with freckles but unblemished by any flush of heat. 

_If this is normal for Elven beauty standards, I can absolutely see why there are so many half-elves wandering around Faerun. Sure, they are odd as all hell, but jeez._

When I managed to drag my wandering eyes back to his, an innocent expression confirmed that his lack of attire was intentional. He gently plucked the clothes from my hands. 

_Now that's just unfair._

Rather than dress, he dropped dramatically onto the other end of the couch. _He knows exactly what he is doing. I don't know why I'm allowing him to run the board - I should really tell him to shove off. Damn me for liking his bullshit so much._

"What is it you were looking at?" 

_Art._ His gaze remained mild, but I knew his double meaning was intentional. _I'm outmatched, holy crap. I should really just run._ "You aren't sneaky, you know." His face smug, he didn't look up from checking out the clothing pile. "It's just my phone . . . It's a . . . messaging device, it creates portraits, and it will get information on things from pretty much anywhere.” 

He tipped his head in invitation. "Would you show me? I promise you'll be safe and sound." His eyes lacked anything but solemn sincerity, which told me everything I needed to know and was going to completely ignore. 

_Bad idea. Nope, nope, nope._ I gave him a quelling stare _._ "Yeah, sure, I guess." 

I intended to sit on the second cushion, but he lifted an arm and shifted to the side. I hesitated, fighting the urge to touch him again. I had no illusions, I was no lithe adventurer, dangerous and seductive. I could see no reason why this gorgeous thing, a high elf for heaven's sake, appeared to be going all in on seduction. _And clearly it's working too well._

It must have shown on my face. "Is everything all right?" His chin lifted, and his eyes held the doubt they had in the woods. _"That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"_

My voice was small, but somehow I voiced the words that reduced my soul to rubble. Bitterness and shame coated my tongue. "Astarion, you clearly aren't seeing sense. You will return home to Liss, with her blades and the blush of magic, or, perhaps someone who has not misled you. I don't understand your intentions." 

His eyes were heavy lidded when he finally looked up. "You are so very human, darling. It nearly steals one's breath."

"Hmm . . . I simply can't imagine why anyone would think that elves are elitist pricks." 

"Ha! Indeed we are." His laugh was carefree, and he looked neither offended nor chastised in the least. 

"Seriously, though, it doesn't make sense." 

"Do you have any idea how old I am? After nearly 400 years, I doubt you could understand. Your arrogance matches my own." _Four centuries . . . I'm like a child to him._ He spoke so reasonably. _It's annoying._

"You're patronizing me."

"Yes." He gave a graceful shrug. "Let me try to clarify - Elven concepts of beauty, for those of us with age and experience, look very little like the shallow tendencies of short-lived races. Any illusions I might have had in my youth were gone long before my death, and beaten into me long after. The ladies of the Szarr family were lovely indeed in life, but they had hearts of vipers." 

He stubbornly refused to let me wriggle out of the conversation. "You, on the other hand, are entirely lovely and willing to put your personal safety on the line to call to a vampire, alone and unprotected, despite the short, precious years you are given." The anxiety rose a bit in his eyes. "But, perhaps, you have changed your mind." 

I shook my head. _Not a chance._

"Then come sit with me, and let me touch you. I also would like to know that you are real." A hint of humor lit his face, and in his most smoldering tone, added, "Please?" 

"Oh, jeez." I let out a laugh with my breath and slid down the couch. I was immediately tucked securely beneath an arm, surrounded by smooth skin and mint. _Heavenly._ "Do you have any idea how much courage it took to say that to you that night?" 

"Precisely as much as it took me to invite you to my bed. So self-possessed, you give no hint of your true feelings - regardless of your form." 

"No, I don't. People are cruel." 

"I am no exception, but I have no wish to harm you. Will you show me this device?" 

"Okay." I flipped it on, and he turned his attention to the screen, idly strumming his fingers along my arm. I flipped through my phone, hitting some highlights. 

His closeness was every bit as fabulous as I'd known it would be. He made a pleased sound and nuzzled my head, breathing in my hair. 

"So what is this camera you describe? You said it makes portraits?" 

"You want to see? Here." I pulled up the camera. I centered us onto the screen, his silver curls glowing against my auburn ones, setting off the gray tones in my eyes and the red in his. I took the photo and showed him the result. 

"It is a perfect replica." 

"Yeah, pretty amazing." Seeing it through his eyes, I wondered how he found this unexpected future. I curled back into him, and closed my eyes, letting my senses adjust. Firm muscles behind my head, secure under his arm. Soft skin beneath my fingers. The sound of him breathing me in. 

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Is this alright?" He did not intend it, but centuries of loneliness echoed in his tone. He sounded as lost as me.

"Much better than alright." He was very close, his face familiar yet alien in its elvenness. Looking up at him, however, had captured me, and I was left wide eyed and vulnerable. He had the same look as he’d had that night in the woods with Liss, uncertain, fearing disappointment, Afraid to hope. Too familiar. 

I couldn't stand that look in his eyes. He was here because I had brought him, and he was dealing with an upheaval I had no way to understand. Even further, I had sought from almost our first meeting to break through his barriers, to earn his trust. I couldn’t stand to think I might betray the space he had granted.

I gave in, finally, lifting my head and placing a single kiss on his mouth. Soft, cool, and dry. It was clear he was surprised, for a moment holding himself very still, as if he held a skittish animal who might bolt at any time. In truth, that was a fair read of the situation. 

I pulled away just a little, intending to speak my thoughts, but his arm tightened to bring me back to him, and his other hand guided my face back to his. 

He kissed with the intensity he did everything, taking his time, cool lips whispering along my cheek, my jaw, before returning to my lips and stealing my breath. Tension drained from him, and he pulled away. He looked as affected as me. 

"Real is nice, indeed." His voice was as gentle as I'd heard it, yet still the smallest hint of hunger limned the words. 

"Is it different?" Full honesty, I had forgotten all about anything but the feel of his cool lips on mine, the solidness of his embrace. He teased my hair out of its knot, clearly amused at how it had stayed in place. 

"Such lovely hair." He spun a strand around his finger. "Real is . . . like a lamp compared to sunlight." He kissed me again, breathing in as he did before. "I don’t know how to describe it . . . I can feel . . . you. Your heartbeat, your . . . emotions." His words whispered against my mouth, he placed small kisses between them. "You smell wonderful . . . It is intoxicating . . . Hard to keep my head." 

_Reality_. This wasn’t just some moment of attraction, I was always technically lunch. Still, I could not bear to move away. 

Instead, I settled back against him, cheek resting against his skin, and nuzzled his neck. Unable to resist, I trailed fingers down his bare side. His muscles tensed in reaction, and a spike of desire lit within me. "If it would help, I would let you feed a bit." I felt his body tense immediately in response, a war of self-denial and uncontrolled need. 

"You should not give that invitation so freely.” A slight waver in his tone revealed the internal struggle. It was almost unnoticeable, but any break in his smooth demeanor shone to me like a beacon. "In truth, I have not fed for two days - had I known you would pull me to you, I might have been better prepared." He gave a rueful smile. "As it is, I would be hard-pressed to please you." 

"Please me . . . Ohhh." The comment percolated through my brain, and I realized what he meant all at once. Visions of tangled limbs and his sweet invasion assaulted me. 

"I would endeavor to find other equally lovely options, but I am not sure I have the control to be so intimate." Those visions got more specific, really quick. Silver curls and his soft lips . . . 

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ _See? You are a fool. You think you would resist him? Think, you infatuated idiot. If a vampire tells you he's unsafe, you best believe him and do something about it. Stat._

"I can't promise the chance to slay our enemies but perhaps something . . . less people?” 

His face was still apologetic. "Most certainly that would take the edge off."

"Let's take that drive now then, instead of later." My overactive brain felt it necessary to add, "No reason for you to be . . . uncomfortable." 

Of course, I was dealing with Astarion, wicked thing that he was. He flashed that smile, the one that says he knows all your secrets, and replied, "Oh, definitely, let's make sure I'm in prime form." He stretched the last two words out in his sexiest voice, leaving no space for doubt. 

I could feel my heart take off, and the self-satisfied smirk told me that he knew it. "Do you know how incredibly maddening you are?" 

He slid around from behind me, all sleek muscle and sinuous movement. "I have no idea what you mean." He rose, but bent over to kiss me with sudden passion, pressing me back into the leather of my couch. He let the tiniest hint of the beast come out to meet me, a light touch of sharpness touched my lips. 

I let out a small sigh, and placed my hands on those lovely shoulders. I kissed him back, taking a moment to throw my anxieties to the wind. I slipped fingers into his damp curls, letting their chill silkiness slide against my skin, then ran my hand down the length of his back, brushing the towel. He let out a small groan of pleasure, and nipped my lip. I stopped breathing as he laved the small wound with the tip of his tongue. 

He pulled away reluctantly and stood, turning away and letting the towel go as he walked. Good God, he had a nice backside, and that's not even my Thing. 

"That's unfair, you know!" 

Laughter answered me. 

" I . . . will go get my . . . shoes if you want to dress." _Or maybe just fall into a big puddle of idiocy._


	6. Nebulous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things we can all agree on, I think. "Don't let your vampire have a fasting day" seems pretty solid.
> 
> Oh the fluff, and the real talk, and the wonderful lemony goodness that's coming starting with this chapter. Be still my heart.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Larian and WotC, as per the norm.
> 
> Because I was excited to post this and it's late, the addition to the playlist is "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol, courtesy of Spotify. For now, unless inspiration shows up, then I'll change it.

I avoided returning to my living room, spending as much time as I could collecting shoes, keys, coat - literally anything I could do to waylay further temptation. I was digging around in my purse for my keys when Astarion slid his arm around my waist. 

His mouth brushed my ear. “Miss me?”

Desire burned me down to my toes. _So, what, this is just my life now?_ "Hey. Ready to go?" My tone was carefully neutral. “I didn’t hear you.”

He chuckled in my ear, a lovely warm sound that melted my insides. "Of course you didn't - and you won't, not unless I want you to." 

_He doesn't miss a chance to remind me how scary he is. Dammit, why is that so fucking sexy?_ Suddenly remembering that I was actually looking for my keys, I retrieved them from my other coat. “I was . . . “

“Hiding?” It was clear that he was poking fun at me, but a dark thread trailed from the weave. “Yes, you were. We both know that you can't conceal yourself from me, though.” He gave a grand sigh, perfectly dramatic, slipping a chill hand beneath my sweater to caress my midriff. I sucked in a breath. 

_Saucy creature._ "Sure, but only because you cheat," I replied, with a laugh. "Clearly, I'm going to need to up my game." It occurred to me that I’d zigzagged across the emotional continuum more in three hours than I had in three months. You’d think I would have learned something by now about broken guys. _Yeah, nobody thinks that. Like, at all._ “We should go.”

"'Up your game?" He ignored my suggestion and moved my hair to the side, kissing my neck, his other hand still stroking my bare skin, driving me just a bit crazy, making me crave his touch all the more. He held me, but it was I who pressed back into him. 

_Ah, hell, this is straight up playing with fire. I really should give more of a shit than I do. New Year's resolution, assuming I don't die of blood loss first._

I fought to keep my tone level. "Mmhmm . . . hide better." Electric stringers ran down my back, his mouth drawing sensations through me. I could feel the tension in him, both monster and male, when I shivered under his ministrations. 

His voice darkened, whispered against my skin. "Gods, yes, do try to escape me . . . the hunt is so much more satisfying when the prey is cunning.” I felt a hint of sharpness against my skin. A whimper escaped, despite my better judgment. "It would not matter, of course, in the end - I would hear your heartbeat . . . hear you breathing . . . and you smell so divine, vulnerable, aroused. I can’t even describe how irresistable it is. It draws me to you."

That hint of pain slid down my neck, fingers slipped inside my bra and passed gently back and forth over a nipple. One arm held me in place, pressed against him. I felt a sharp nick and a sound I could best describe as a purr came from his throat. "So soft . . . Mmm, I love how you react to me, as defenseless as you are fearless." That same growl was in his voice. “I could take you right here, could make you beg for me to drink you down. You would beg, too, wouldn’t you?” 

I shook my head and tried to pull away, but his arm did not budge.

His roaming hand slipped open my jeans and dipped within while he tasted the tiny amount of blood that trickled from the small cut, seeking and finding my center, opening me and drawing a cool finger across the sensitive bud. If he hadn’t been holding me up, it would have dropped me on the spot. “Don’t lie, Lissa . . . Your heart flutters like a captured bird, and your body responds like you were waiting just for me.“

I felt him pierce my skin again, a deeper cut on my nape; it hurt, but I had no focus to give it. I needed to pull my shit together; he was clearly not in control right now. "Astarion?" _Ah, fuck. Gotta right this ship, or we're going to have a corpse in the entryway._

 _"_ Hmm?" His arm tightened, keeping me from moving. His lips sucked at the small wound, and he stroked me, _ahhh,_ so perfectly. A shudder passed through me, and I fought to resist melting into him, moving against his hand. It was near impossible, as my own desires were against me as well.

"We need to go, this is a bad idea." I squirmed against him, pissed that I had to do so, but still resisting being anchored in place. I made no progress - his arm remained and his hand continued its relentless motion. A small sob of frustration and rising sensation was wrung from me as my will to resist weakened further.

"Shhh . . . Be still. Ask me to bring you. Blessed Shar, I can taste your need, your pleasure." His voice was dreamy, disturbing in its soothing effect. Even knowing I was in danger, having seen how he could lose it without warning, my first reaction was to listen to him, to trust his intentions. 

He was fully supporting me now, my legs shaking with approaching release. He allowed no quarter, no escape, but kept his touches light, teasing. “You want to argue with me so much, but you want this more, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question.

I could hardly breathe, between the sweet silk of his voice and his demand for my submission. “Tell me you want this.”

My eyes were squeezed shut, and I hissed the answer he’d already known. “Yes, dammit, you know I do.”

“Then beg, lovely one, ask me to let you come and know I’m going to sink my teeth into you, and it’s going to hurt because I need to know you feel me.” 

I whimpered, shaking my head, denying his command. He simply lessened the pressure further and slid the tip of his tongue up the nape of my neck. He murmured to me, his voice sweet, persuasive. “Sweet one, let go, don't make it harder than it must be.”

I could not take his teasing, withstand his words, deny him any further. “Fine, yes, please . . . dammit, please . . . “

I felt his teeth sink fully into my shoulder, and I cried out at the shard of cold pain. His fingers pressed blissfully close, the pain and the friction brought my release, immediate and intense. I let out small, broken sounds as the tremors swept through me, as I came in a wash of wetness and blood. His mouth was fastened to me, and a new streak of pain came each time he drew more blood. I couldn't withhold a mewling whimper, afraid to pull back lest I tear my skin further. 

"Astarion." My voice was hoarse, my body soft and replete, but fear trembled below. 

He let out a growl, but he shivered and stopped moving, a stillness so complete it could never be natural. It was easy to forget that he was a being of magic, Fae and necromancy. Easy until the monster showed up. 

I held very still, and he released my shoulder, setting my feet on the ground so quickly I nearly lost my balance. I turned around. _Ah, hell._

He had backed to the corner; his head was turned away from me. He clearly was mentally kicking his own ass. He had pulled into himself, thrown up every defense, but I could finally see the burning fury at his own weakness, raw and sharp. 

It was familiar - you push yourself until you break to prove to yourself that you can have that moment of connection, and then blame yourself for breaking. 

"Hey." I still sounded breathless, the heart of me still throbbing slightly, a familiar emptiness demanding to be filled. He didn't look up, as I knew he wouldn’t. Remembering his reaction the day he told me about his dream, I reached out my hand, but was careful not to touch him. He shrank away, but when I made no further movement, his shoulders settled back down and cautiously met my eyes again. 

"My apologies." He eyed my hand like a nervous cat. "I'm not safe for you." 

"Please don't apologize, that was unbelievable." I met his eyes, worried for him, intent. "You did not harm me, see?" 

His mouth twisted derisively. "You know nothing." 

"You did not hurt me. We can be more careful to stay away from that line." I didn't drop my hand. "You can control it without him with more time, I promise. We should find you something to drink right now, though. Looks like the thirst is really bad right now." 

“It is.” 

“If it's worse, no more skipping days.”

“You clearly have no true understanding of monsters - I’m not sick.” His sharp, self-deprecating humor lit eyes that gleamed like wine. "You persist at your own peril."

I just raised an eyebrow, hand still extended to him. 

He sighed. "Bloody Hells, woman, you are stubborn. I don't want to harm you." His eyes held 200 years of misery and guilt, but he took my hand anyway, weaving his long fingers between mine. He held very tightly.

"I know you don't." I pulled back to look at him, still keeping hold of his hand. ”Are the clothes ok?" The jeans fit him like a glove, slung low on his hips, and the t-shirt was just a touch tight, but in the right places. The hoodie was left open, drawing my eyes to him like a magnet. 

His forehead creased, his attention returning to the present. "They are strange." He fidgeted with the hoodie’s zipper pull. "I was not sure where to put my weapons." 

"Well," I let a bit of my own thoughts seep into my eyes, "you look so smoking hawt in them, that if anyone tries anything, you could probably just seduce them out of attacking, honestly. I’m more worried about being trampled by a group of crazed admirers - anything with a pulse is going to chase that ass.” 

As I had hoped, snarky sexiness won out over his remaining fear. "You would let them steal me away so easily?" 

I gave him my best arch look. "Oh, hell no." 

He yanked on my hand suddenly, and pressed a hard, almost punishing kiss to my mouth. After my orgasm, his touch was like the sweetest music, and I submitted without question to his roughness. He growled against my lips. "You are mine, you know. Say it." 

I dragged in a breath, and tried to pull him to the door. He refused to follow, so I looked back, and stubborn demand had taken over his expression. Only the barest of shadows remained of his black despair. 

“You ask much of me.” He waited, inexorable and patient. My eyes narrowed, but I gave him what he asked. “Yes.”

His face calmed into his favorite satisfied smirk, and he allowed me to lead him to my garage.

"I think we should talk about the car."

"What is a car?" He was still tense and on edge, but he was curious. 

I hit the garage opener and went in. "This." 

My silver SUV was neither fancy nor clean, but to unfamiliar eyes it must have seemed sleek and alien. "It's some sort of carriage, yes?" He let go of my hand to get close. 

"Exactly. I just wanted to let you know about the sound and the speed. It burns special oil, and moves a bunch of parts to make the wheels roll - it goes pretty fast." He was peering into the front grill. I lifted my door handle and pointed him over to the passenger side. 

He slid in smoothly, but still jumped a touch when the engine turned over. He did not comment, but watched with his pointed focus as I backed out and started down the street. 

The rain had turned to snowflakes, and everything was covered in a light dusting of snow. I flipped on the heated seats and headed through the neighborhood. 

"Astarion . . . Can I ask you some questions about your condition?" 

He was quietly gripping the seat, but still sent me an odd look. "My 'condition?'" 

"The vampirism." 

He shot me a wicked grin, and I wondered what he had planned. "Yes, but you have to answer mine in return." 

"Oh, dear." _He's been waiting for an opportunity. Crap._

"That doesn't seem fair?" 

"It sounds most reasonable, and that just worries me even more. Fine." _This should be interesting. "_ So, you're immortal." 

He inclined his head. The charcoal sweatshirt and the wintry light seemed to leech all color from him. 

"How old are you?" 

"That was two questions. You first." 

"Ugh, fine. I'm 37."

"I'm nearly 400 years old, unless you want to stop counting when I died, then I was 183." The unlikely number floated out into the air. _I'm like a child to him._ "I believe that makes it my turn." 

"Be gentle." 

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else, my dear." He made a big show of thinking, telling me that he already had a question in his pocket. "Why are you haunting my world, when yours has these 'cars' and perfect coffee and buttons that serve no purpose but warming your backside?" 

"That's your idea of 'gentle?'" _Ouch._

"Semantics, love." He watched my face carefully, monitoring for a reaction. 

I turned the last corner and headed out of town. "Okay, well, I'm different from a lot of humans, and their intentions are hard for me to figure out sometimes - games have rules. Also there is a, well, a plague of sorts floating around, so I don't really leave my house."

"I cannot argue that your opinions do not seem to align with others." 

I let a breath out. "It's easier for me to see patterns, the ways in which things connect. Personally, I believe my thinking is more logical, more honest. That is . . . not at all accepted." 

"I understand your thoughts some better. You attribute these behaviors to those who fear me."

 _Holy shit, he's quick._ "I suppose I do - if your condition is so awful, then the logical thing would be to figure out how it happens and fix it. They called many things in my world 'magic' or 'curses' before they understood them - and acted in much the same way toward the afflicted."

"Pitchforks and torches?" 

"No, we save those for politicians and judges." I peeked to my right.

The barb earned me an over-the-top shocked expression. "I am doubly maligned, you are a cruel vixen." 

"Perhaps you should do what I tell you then." I suppressed a smile, but not well. 

He slipped his fingers between mine and placed a kiss on my knuckles. I looked over to see an imp dancing in his eyes. His voice was low, rough. "Oh, darling, perish the thought. I would never deny you my _firm_ _guidance_ \- you so clearly enjoy it." 

The grin escaped me, and I batted his hand away. "You are terrible, you know that." 

"Well at least we finally agree on that. Your metaphor is flawed. Mortals are right to fear me - I lack control over the Hunger. Still, I would learn more, if such things might be in this phone of yours." 

"Sure. You know, I have no idea how people could possibly miss how educated you are. Every time I looked at you in camp you had your nose buried in a book. Do you ever stop reading?" That tiny hint of humor brushed the side of his mouth, and I couldn't help but laugh aloud. "You scamp, you may have them fooled, but not me.

"Ok, my turn. If the stories have it right, you can't turn anyone else into a vampire." We were nearly to the trail. 

"Correct." He didn't meet my eyes, voice subdued.

"Of course, the Bat-Fucker told you nothing of your making." 

" . . . And give up the tiniest shred of power? He has not." 

"Damn. I'm going to light that asshat on fucking fire." 

A laugh broke through his solemn mien. "'Asshat?'" 

I turned innocent eyes his way. "What? I’m sure whatever picture you came up with seems quite appropriate." 

"You fear too little." 

"No, I fear everything. When everything is on fire, it's hard to notice one more torch. Your turn, by the way." 

"So it is." He thought for a moment, watching the scenery slide past. 

I finally spied the pull off area that led into the trees. He spoke as I came to a stop, tucked into the privacy of park and snowfall, and cut the engine. "You said you knew I was a vampire right away." 

"Yeah." The snow swished against the silent car. 

"You don't have any idea who I am, the things I have done for him." Anger spilled from him like a poison, although his face remained impassive. 

"Was that a question?" 

He turned in his seat, movement so quick it blurred in my vision. A thundercloud rode his brow, terrifying anger with the depth and breadth of centuries. He gripped my arm, not tight enough to hurt, but so strong that I couldn't move if I tried. 

Wrath crackled in his eyes, pinning me with its force. "Why would you pursue such a creature?" His voice was raised, and his fangs flashed with threat. 

I fought my own triggers down with an iron fist, denying the overwhelming urge to cringe away. As hard as it was, I had brought him here. If I had wanted calm, I could have left him alone. 

"I have sent so many to their deaths at his hand. I doomed others to this! Bloody Hells, I . . . killed you, twice, and you didn't fight me. Why didn't you fight?" He slumped back in the seat. "Why would you want me here, where your existence could be snuffed out as easily as a candle?" He went as silent as death, staring out the windshield. 

I was silent for a moment, once the storm abated. Words were sometimes slippery, the patterns I saw were often too subtle to explain, but I would try, because I had played a part in the cognitive dissonance that plagued him now. I clearly remembered losing the numbness that had sheltered me from the abuse - that had been a really shitty day. 

"I didn't, not at first. I saw only the mask, same as everyone. You really can be an egotistical ass when you try, you know." 

The neutral expression melted away, and he scowled. "Is this how you soothe all of your lovers?" The pout in his voice was reassuring. His mask was safely back in place for the moment. 

"No, some of them get sex with red-haired Tieflings, I'm just fresh out."

He was terribly agitated; I saw him reach for his knife belt, not to threaten, but seeking reassurance, only to be stymied by the new clothing. He rubbed his hands on the jeans like an addict needing a fix. "I kill people. Sometimes, I even like it."

I ignored his aggressive tone. On the one hand, I believed him, on the other, I recognized this as an attempt to shove me out, to prove the worst of himself to me now rather risk rejection later. "You have vampirism, but you are not just that. When you are different, they will label you when they think you're a threat to keep you compliant, to make you complicit with their shitty behavior. To keep you from resisting." 

His forehead was creased with thought, so I kept moving forward. My thoughts turned inward, and I sat in his darkness with him. "We can only be held accountable for the things that are in our control. When they take our control, they own our decisions, but we can make them earn every inch. And we can wait and watch and take our chance when it comes. We find our way to get through it, even if sometimes the darkness wins for a while, if we can make it back, we'll get another day."

He spoke quietly, barely above the sound of the wind. "That may be what you believe, but you must know it's not the same." 

I wanted to reach out to him, but I could sense that it would be hard for him. "So you would say, but I saw things that defy that narrative. That day you played with the little tiefling, Matthias, and his little brain exploded with idol worship. When you tried to reach out to Gale - he rebuffed you, and you went silent. Everytime you poked someone in the nose for being a self-righteous little shit.

"Nobody saw me for a decade. When someone finally reminded me who I was, the numbness cracked and even the smallest injuries hurt. It sucked, a lot, but without it, I might still be there. I saw you, but unless I revealed myself, you would never know."

"Why would you even care? 200 years I was trapped with Cazador, and no one cared." His voice was as diaphanous as the snowflakes brushing against my window. 

"I had no plans to, but you are quite dear to me, nonetheless. The most exquisite spun glass surrounded by cold iron and death." 

That was what I had, at least for the day. The air in the car was growing chilly, and I blew on my cold fingers. 

"I can't warm your fingers, you know."

"True. So you best go get something to eat, because I'm getting cold." I did my best to put warm feelings into my eyes and gave him a small smile. "I don't know how long you need." 

He looked a bit shell-shocked, but he still slid over and put a soft kiss on my cheek. "I will be as fast as I can." He pulled the door handle, stepping out into the snow. He looked to be a part of the wind and the blizzard, curls moving gracefully, eyes glowing slightly. He held eye contact for a long moment, and then moved away so quickly he seemed to disappear into the storm. 


	7. Notturno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small filler turned into a small chapter - it took on a life of its own, and I just let it lead where it wanted. Lemons to follow directly.
> 
> Inspiration from "Notturno Op. 54 No. 4" by Edvard Grieg, found here performed by Iskra Mantcheva, courtesy of YouTube: https://youtu.be/_9rw9Wor5GI
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Larian and WotC.
> 
> Chapter playlist add is "Yours to Hold" by Skillet. The bonus additions are found within the chapter, listed in order of appearance. The timing is pretty close to listen while you read, if you would like.
> 
> "Chandelier" (Piano Version) - Sia  
> "Radioactive" (Cover - Acoustic Version) - Sofia Karlberg  
> "Counting Stars" (Cover) - Hannah Trigwell
> 
> All are courtesy of Spotify.

It was 22 minutes. I made it ten before I restarted the SUV. 

I settled in, my phone connected to the car sound system, eyes closed, when the passenger side opened to cold air and snow. Astarion slipped into the seat, silent and lithe. Snow glittered in silver curls and eyelashes were tipped with frost - but for the light flush that now shone behind a smattering of freckles, he appeared some fey winter spirit taken form. 

"You are an artist's dream . . . " 

The brightness of his attention lit on me in response, although the music had captured him like a moth. He had never seemed so inhuman, it was like I tried to catch air with my hands. "Trying to turn my head with your flattery, hmm?” His expression turned teasingly coy. “My weakness is exposed, I'll have to beg for mercy. This is . . . indescribable, by the way. I've never heard it's like. "

If I lacked any significant defense against the weight of his charm, my mind blanked watching him lose himself in the simple pleasure of Sia and a piano. 

I found my fingers strung back with his, and soft, slightly warm lips dusting them with sweet kisses. 

"You are warmer." I could hardly move my eyes away from his attention. I was unused to such courtly behaviors and had no resistance to them, whatsoever. 

"For a little while." For the first time he seemed a touch self-conscious, but his eyes were lit with a painful hope. No doubt he feared the reality would hit at some point, and I'd run for the hills. _From my understanding, that would have the opposite effect it intends._

"You're feeling better?" My voice sounded strange to my ears, breathless, unsteady. My phone slid into a gentle cover of "Radioactive," and I swore it was written for him. My heart felt like it slid sideways. 

"Distinctly. I might wish for more . . . selective options . . . " He made an expansive gesture around us, but the action still felt stilted, his words hesitant. 

"Astarion." I leaned his way again, taking the initiative when he seemed anxious. _So, most of the time._ "Why the nerves?" 

"You are too perceptive." He stared out the windshield at the gathered snow, making it quite clear that he might have preferred not to have this discussion. When I just kept waiting, he sighed. "Experience has shown that the reality of my needs tends to cause a change in the winds of mortal desire." 

"Well, that's a strange reaction - not sure what expectation they might have come with. I mean, it's not like I'm joining you for supper." 

His mouth twisted in that familiar not-smile. "Do you really not understand? I drink blood, preferably humanoid. I am distastefully parasitic." His words were purposely challenging, destructive even, even if his tone was soft. 

"Sorry, I'm not going to understand why it's a problem." He didn't look less doubtful. I shook my head, brain spinning for ideas. "For somebody who tells me I'm stubborn, you could give me lessons." 

I realized then that he would try to break himself apart for me, distance the vampire from his veneer of civilization. I wondered, not for the first time, what kind of person would spend time with someone as captivating as Astarion and then get all squeamish when, you know, the vampire did vampire things. 

"Don't worry so much - people eat far stranger things than a little animal blood, you know." I smiled a little when an idea lit up. It was a truly lovely thought, but my breath felt heavy with nerves."There is one way you could know for sure." I leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his warm mouth. 

He gently pressed me back. "What? No." I could see panicked alarm spark behind his eyes, a wild and uncontrolled thing. "You do not want that right now." 

He grimaced, his own disgust at his curse running over. I felt it shudder through him, his own perception of himself as a monster coloring his thoughts with a bloody pen. He refused to make eye contact. 

I gently smoothed a wayward curl behind his ear, smiling slightly when a shiver ran down his neck. Interesting. Taking advantage of his unwillingness to look back at me, I ran the tip of my index finger along the top of his ear out to the tip. 

He made a soft noise, and captured my hand in his. His eyes fought between fear and dark desire - he held his expression steady. "Distracting thing - you do you know how arousing that is. " 

"I do now. So, that's pretty sexy." 

He let out a thin laugh of surrender and cradled my face in his hands. He kissed me gently, the aggression of his hunger finally muted. Snow swished against the car, and it seemed like we were the only two people in the world. 

Curiosity slid my hand up his neck, and I dragged a nail lightly along that intriguing top line of his ear. 

The teasing touch earned me a mix between a growl and a laugh, and he deepened the kiss, giving up his effort to shield me any further. It was primal and strange, the taste of copper melded with the dark taste of withheld needs and tiny flames of possibility. A tiny sigh slipped from me. 

He gripped my hair in response, and I gasped at the unexpected pain. He took the opportunity to kiss me like he would drink me down too, his tongue sliding against mine, forcing the taste of blood into my mouth, demanding that I accept him. In response, I sucked it fully into my mouth, letting him pull it back, only to draw it into me again, purposely echoing more intimate play. 

His response was immediate and heavens, so damn hot - his kiss became aggressive and hungry, his teeth against my lips. He pulled a hand from his shoulder and slid it to his lap, a silent request for my touch. He slipped his hand around my head to keep me from moving as he ravaged my mouth. 

The difference was clear from before he'd fed, he pressed against the jeans, demanding. I stroked gently along his length over his jeans. He purred into my mouth, a little reckless, his kiss stuttered as his focus slipped to my hand. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were hot, his voice unstable. He pressed his forehead to mine and let out a strangled laugh. "Perhaps it would be wise to relocate from your . . . car." 

I didn't entirely trust my voice so I nodded and backed out of the trees onto the road. My hand trembled on the wheel as I made the decision, but I turned back toward home instead of the store. _Even cowards run out of patience._

It was a quiet drive back, just a low bit of music and the dance of snowflakes seeming to fly toward the windshield. He seemed to be wound into his own thoughts. I pulled into the driveway, parked in the garage. 

"You are anxious." His voice was soft. I looked over, and he wore a strange expression. 

I shrugged. "Yeah. Just a bit freaked out, I suppose. Today has been unexpectedly eventful." 

_And also, I haven't had a physical relationship in a while, and they weren't precisely a success when I did._

He slipped out of the car then, coming gracefully around to open the door for me. I stepped out, feeling unwieldy and awkward next to him. He closed the door behind me, and followed me into the house. 

He was keeping a distance between us, but my nerves were making me a complete mess. I went to take off my coat, only to find gentle, steady hands holding it for me. He hung it up for me, still quiet and unobtrusive. That he could read my needs so easily was both lovely and terrifying.

I slipped out of my shoes and passed into the kitchen, hyper aware of his presence behind me. I felt out of sync, irritated at my own difficulties, the stupid anxieties that made everything so much harder. 

_Quit being such a pain in your own ass._ I turned to look at him. 

His eyes were careful, but the tension from the car still hung over him. He looked incredible, and that really just made everything more difficult.

When the silence ran long, he spoke. "I fear I may have overstepped." 

_Be brave, you idiot._ I shook my head, feeling slow and stupid. "Not at all. I just haven't, uh, spent any time with anyone for a while." My eyes flickered everywhere but toward him. 

He came closer and captured my fluttering hands. "You spent time with me."

I laughed awkwardly. "Not for that bit." 

"That is true, I am happy to make up for that oversight." 

I swallowed, again assaulted by mental images of what I had missed. I thought my poor heart might climb out of my chest at any point. 

At some point, he realized that I had run out of words to give him. "Do you have a way to bring that music inside?" 

I nodded, and it lit back up when it connected to my surround. Piano and husky vocals slid into the room, and he pulled me closer. 

He swayed me gently, somehow standing in my living room. I lifted up on my toes and gave into my need to taste him again. He was already cooler, but his eyes closed and dark eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. 

_" . . . Everything that kills me makes me feel alive . . . "_

My palms rested on shoulders, and he kissed down my jaw, still moving us to the music so the dancing and the kissing swirled within each other until there was no difference. When he slid his hand down my back, pulling me against him and letting me feel his need it simply felt a part of the narrowing circles we'd been dancing in since he arrived. 

" . . . _Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly . . . "_

Having decided that I was done resisting this thing between us, I was hard pressed to recall why I had done so in the first place. His lips brushed my throat, leaving twinges of sensation that just made me crave more. I nuzzled his hair, falling into his attentions.

The song ended. The sudden silence left me looking up to him, unsteady. 

In a bittersweet echo of the night in camp, he took the risk for me. He set my hands on his shoulders, and pressed his lips back to mine. He lifted me without breaking the kiss, and my heart skipped a beat as he turned toward the back hall. 

He spoke, his voice a midnight velvet, nuzzling my throat. "I fear I do not know what custom demands in your world, but I would like to give you pleasure and take my own." I felt the lightest touch of his tongue against my pulse.

I let out a shaky breath. "Yes." It was really all the words I had left in me. 


	8. Needful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we've all been incredibly patient, so here's our reward chapters.
> 
> Also, here's some more Astarion pics, cuz it's Friday and it's been a long week.  
> https://msaditu.livejournal.com/20572.html
> 
> Enjoy, dear readers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Larian, WotC, and all the resources online that established what we for sure know about vampire rules in 5e - emotions, visible signs of health, etc.
> 
> The playlist add for this chapter is an old pull, but it reminded me of itself last night. I have to think it was for a reason - "What's Left of Me" by Nick Lachey, courtesy of Spotify.

He set me gently on my feet beside my bed, pulling away. 

I recognized the look he gave me then, entirely male, dominating, and sure. "Disrobe for me?" 

I felt my eyes widen, uncertain at his unexpected request, but determined to follow his lead. My shaking fingers grabbed my t-shirt and pulled it over my head as he lowered his weight to my mattress and watched me with heated eyes. 

I let it fall to the floor, and unfastened my jeans, sliding them down over my hips, and peeling the tight fabric from my legs. I saw his hand had caught hold of my comforter. He was clearly affected - somehow that calmed my nerves. 

I stood before him in a black satin underthings, exposed and uncertain. "You are a lovely thing. Take the rest off for me?" 

I could feel the blush in my cheeks, but I slipped out of my bra and stepped out of the panties without meeting his eyes. Completely bare, I didn't know what to do with my hands. I crossed my arms over my stomach. 

"Very nice, you know you look almost elven-smooth, but with such soft curves." My eyes flicked his way, and I could see hunger riding him hard. He did not reach for me, however, just took off the sweatshirt and patted the open mattress behind him. 

I followed his request, and he finally reached out to me, his hand tracing my hip. His eyes were hot, but his touch was light. 

I did not have any idea what I had expected, but this was not it. At each point, he demanded I choose to comply. He slid his hands down my legs. After waiting so long for his touch, I felt them tremble. He lifted my knees, pulling them apart and leaving me no secrets from his eyes. 

"Gods, so beautiful. I fear to touch you, that I might hurt you. Will you touch yourself for me just for a little while?" His voice was gruff, eyes riveted to mine. He stretched out next to me, nearly touching me at every point. 

"I don't know . . ." 

"Certainly you do. Just do what feels good, I want to see you wet for me, panting for release." 

I slid a hand down my body, embarrassed but completely taken by the look in his eyes. "That's right, rub your clit for me. Imagine that it's me, close your eyes, imagine it's my fingers that stroke you." 

I followed his command, sliding my fingers against my most sensitive spot. I gasped and writhed a bit at its sensitivity from earlier. "Just like that. Tell me, what do you feel?" 

I had trouble keeping my voice steady. "You left me . . . sensitive . . . mmm . . . so empty." 

"What do you want?" I opened my eyes to see his face so close to mine, his pupils wide, their strange light glowing red. "You have to ask. Nicely."

I shook my head in denial. This was far, far from my comfort zone - I had come some ways already to actually let him know that he had gotten to me, that I wanted him so much. This was too invasive, like he wanted to crawl into my brain and see out of my eyes. I felt my expression turn stubborn, demanding he allow me to maintain distance, sanity. To keep a small piece of me my own. I would not give him everything, I had never given anyone that - even at the cost of my own pleasure.

"Since you disobey me, I will have to make it harder for you. Take your fingers away from your clit. That's the way." 

I whimpered at the loss of sensation. "I know it's hard." His eyes were both sympathetic and unyielding. "Move your fingers to the edges of where you want me. Touch there." 

I could feel my hips move, restless for sensation, but I complied, fingers slipping to each side. Already I starved for him to give me relief. I whimpered and squeezed my eyes closed. _Dammit, I will not submit._

"That's my girl." His lips whispered on my cheek, and he raised a hand to my breast. He squeezed my nipple, to the edge of pain. “I can tell that it is torturing you - I know you crave more. You just need to use your words, but for now, Rub your clit, back and forth." His voice growled a bit. “Press harder, I want to see you on the edge.” 

I did as he requested, unable to prevent my knees from spreading further, opening to him and my own fingers. “Gods, your need is strong, so beautiful. Why do you fight me? I don’t want to be cruel, let go.”

I pressed my lips together, but shivers wracked me.

"Tell me what you want, let me help you." He stared deep into my eyes, his voice sweet as a light spring wind.

"I want you to touch me, I want your fingers . . . Ah, in me." I whimpered as the motion of my fingers and the pinch of his took my sanity. 

"I can only do that if you say please."

I recognized the ploy, he was taking a sweet revenge for my teasing the night of the tieflings’ celebration. His lips ghosted over mine, barely brushing. 

I made a frustrated noise, moving to pull my hand back. A sudden twist of my nipple brought my eyes open and dragged out a shocked gasp. 

"No, lovely one, none of that. Rub those lovely fingers around where you want me, don't make me ask again." 

I followed his direction, driving myself to near madness with need. "Fine, damn you, please, Astarion. Please . . . " I could feel my orgasm at the edges of my awareness, but I did not dare give myself relief. A small sob forced its way clear. 

Cool fingers slid down my body, hesitating from where I needed them most. He pulled my hand away, and placed it over my head, locked in one of his. 

He slid three fingers into me, curling forward to press hard into the hidden nerves. My eyes rolled back in my head as my orgasm hit me like a wave. I tried to stay silent, but he did not stop pressing into me, over and over. I cried his name, begging for him to stop and continue all at once. He captured my cries in his mouth, holding me in his torture with iron control. 

"Gods, you are so sexy . . . how you listen and comply." His voice was rough, as tortured as my own. "Ask me to let you ride me, as hard as you need." 

"Yes, please, Astarion, . . . let me . . . I need you. Please . . . please . . . " My mouth sought his, and I was rewarded with a devouring kiss and sharp teeth. 

He pulled his hand away, standing for a moment. He tossed his shirt and stripped off his jeans, clearly having disdained the boxers. He was so hard, pale but perfect. He lay back and pulled me over him, taking the opportunity to palm my breasts, gripping on the edge of pain. I whimpered. 

"Take what you need, lovely one, but you should say . . . Thank you." His words were sexy, teasing, but his expression was painfully aroused. 

I gave a sob and lowered myself onto him, relief from the emptiness making me shake. "Oh, yessss . . . th - thank you . . . Ahh . . . thank . . . you . . . ahh hell . . . " He groaned in response, and I ground down onto him, moving slow, driving us both to distraction. His nails cut into the skin of my hips as he came up to meet me. Pulling off and settling onto him again, so desperate was I that I came after only a few motions, everything I needed given to me with the passion he had withheld. I felt him let go and pour himself into me with a growl only a few seconds behind. I slid down to lay on his chest, fully spent. Exhausted and boneless. _Oh, my God._

It took me a few to come back down, but I could already feel the reality descend on Astarion. The heartbeat under my ear was strangely slow and unresponsive, but my oversensitive anxiety radar was hard to deceive. 

_Take your own advice, Uber Therapist. Ain't so easy, eh?_

I slipped my hips to the side, but left my head resting on him, letting him feel my weight. I didn’t speak, I started humming. 

I could tell he was still in the throes of an anxiety attack, his muscles were primed for flight. Yet he listened, and little by little, I felt him relax. I kept my head down and still until long fingers idly began playing with my hair. 

I grew quiet, looking up and resting my chin on his chest. I wrinkled my nose. "Those are the worst."

"You knew that morning, didn't you? You let me go." His eyes were exhausted, so much more tired than a hundred nights of rest could fix. "You were disappointed with me for not staying." 

"Quite the opposite, I feared you had not enjoyed the night. Then I saw your face when you turned around - it was like looking in the mirror at my worst moments." I kept my voice calm and clear. 

"You thought it was you? Of course you would have. Hells." Tension slipped through him. I could feel the silent mental daggers skewering his insides. 

"Only for that moment." His expressive face was solemn. I poured as much feeling into my words as I could. "It's actually pretty hawt that you find me so irresistible that you keep trying anyway."

"You let me drink . . . it brought your emotions with it and I was not prepared, even though I had tasted you once before. It is . . . different when you desire me." His eyes slid to my neck. _Oh. Ohhh. I bet it's different again now._

"Astarion," I held his expectant gaze for a moment, "is it safe now?" 

A shadow moved behind his eyes, its sudden attention full and cunning. He was immediately wary, but the need was there too. His gaze seemed unable to leave my throat, but his attention was fleeting, as if he prepared to make an escape. "It is never entirely safe." His voice was reed thin, a terrible black hole of a need he had filled once and been unable to let himself repeat.

I wrapped my free leg around his, lightly capturing him with a foot in case he got any ideas. I gave him a solemn nod. "You're still thirsty though, aren't you?" 

He had stopped breathing, I could tell he was listening, momentarily lost in the pull of my pulse. When he answered, his whisper sounded hoarse. "Always . . . " 

"I trust you." My eyes were locked with his. 

"You shouldn't." Terror and hunger warred behind wide eyes; his whites showed. 

"My choice. I won't have this between us. All of you or none at all."

The red glint of his eyes was almost a flame. "There is no way for me to save you if I lack the strength to stop again."

"If you go too far, you pick up my phone and you push where it says emergency call and set it beside me, then you disappear for a little while." I tried to look confident. 

"What will happen?" He clearly was about to cut and run, every muscle was in readiness. 

"The healers will trace my phone and come replace some of my blood, probably take me to the hospital. But that's not going to happen, because we're doing this together, nice and slow."

"You said there were no priests in your world." His eyebrows lowered to their finest arch. 

"There aren't - there's medicine, and there’s blood replacement. People donate in my world for those who might need it." 

His brow creased. "They voluntarily give up their blood?" 

"Yeah.” I gave him a smile, my sated brain running wonderfully slow. “Hell, I ought to with my blood type. It just seems strange. It's one thing to let you have it, quite another to have some of me walking around in some random person." 

"Your people allow themselves to be bled, and you think it's less strange to have me drink from you? This place is very different, indeed." 

"Well, we invented yours so . . . " I kissed him when he gave a small smile. 

"You are so very, very cheeky." He closed his eyes and slid his hand into my hair. "Promise me they will come. None of your double speak, a real promise." I could feel his desire to believe me.

"They will come, but they aren't going to be needed - let me do better at soothing my lover, won’t you?" 

He sighed, with his eyes closed. "Are you ever serious?" 

"I am being serious. Neither of us would get anywhere if we allowed our worries to take over." _Positive thoughts. Positive. Thoughts. C’mon universe, work with me here._

"You are truly certain? I can go without, I will." He looked so angelic, resting his lovely head on my pillow, the rest of him bare and so nice to feel against me. Only his eyes betrayed him, hungry but afraid.

"This is what I am choosing - I will not have you starve again, not when I can prevent it. I can’t stand the thought of causing you to be sick, to be weak. Trust me, I know my mind. Yes, I'm sure."

"Very well, I cannot deny myself and you both." He slid to his side, letting my head fall onto my pillow. It was still cool where he had lain on it. _So strange._

He kissed me, then, with both tension and expectation. His eyes were soft, like they had been the night he'd first tasted me. His voice was . . . quiet. Strangely shy for the elf who oozed seduction from every pore. "You can curl up to me, it would be pleasant for us both. I would feel your heat . . . if you'd allow it."

I rolled over, feeling sleepy, and pressed back into him, his cool skin like a dream against my back. Spooning had never been so lovely. 

I moved my hair to the side and felt soft lips on my nape. I fell into the sensation, secure and calm.

"I must hurt you, but it will be brief." He spoke against my skin, his voice sounding a small bit harried, like he was fighting to restrain a more aggressive movement. 

"Mmm . . . Yes, please, do that. Let me feel you again." I was comfortable and sated, so incredibly sated, yet his mouth on my neck still sent a tremor down my spine. 

He chuckled, a sleek, dark sound. "Sweet Gods, woman, it is like you were created for me." Between his words and my next breath, he sank his teeth into my throat. 

It really hurt, and I whimpered as tears welled in my eyes. Somehow, I forced my muscles to relax. The feelings inside the pain were singular. 

His arm came around me as I felt him draw from the wounds for the first time, and I swore I could feel something else, something that was me, slip loose and flow into him. 

_Oh. Blood, yes, but he's taking some of me too. So . . . strange._

The pain itself faded as promised. The room was silent but for him, as I felt my life flow between us. It was such a short time later, but a wave of disorientation slid across me. I said nothing for a few more moments, hating to take his moment of vampiric Zen, but I saw some glimmers at the edge of vision. 

"Astarion. I think it's time." 

For a wavering moment he did not stop, instead his arm pulled me closer. I tried again, trying to put my thoughts into the mind of the beast. What might it be willing to hear, if anything? _Promise, yes. Certainty._ "I am sorry to stop you, but you need to let me go. I'll stay with you if you let me, and then you can drink from me whenever it's safe." 

The smallest whine left his throat, but I felt him pull his teeth from me. Warm liquid began to run down my neck, but was caught by his tongue, which roughly brushed against the incision points, pressure and magic tingling against my skin, painful but so sexy. He took a deep breath, face buried in my hair, unwilling to lose the connection. 

I rolled over to meet eyes that glowed with a touch of my own life. I lifted a hand, strangely heavy after losing blood. I touched his face, and then leaned in and touched my mouth to his. 

A sound I swore was a sob fell into my mouth, as he kissed me like he drowned and I was air. Both his arms slid around me, incredibly warm now, tight and protective. He pulled me as close as he could. _If I did kick off, I would like to do that right here._

"Ah, love." I felt a tear slip from my eye, and I stroked his hair, his scarred back, his shoulders until his arms relaxed their desperate hold, and his face rested calmly against my neck. 

He mumbled into my skin, my noble elf fallen into the Real and overwhelmed with it. "I can't possibly deserve any of this, it is doomed, everything is, nothing is ever what it seems." 

I didn't answer, he had already told me that my emotions might overwhelm him, that he would drink them in with my blood. Thinking of my own sense preferences, I slid fingers through his hair, and then pulled it gently. He let out a deep purr of pleasure at the constant pressure. I let go and repeated the process, stroking his head with my nails and pulling his hair until he was boneless against me. 

I stayed silent, careful to not break his calm while it lasted. I fell asleep then, fingers tangled in silver curls, sharing my heat with the arms around me, his head buried beneath my chin like he never wanted to move again. 


	9. Nirvana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last of the complete chapters, just posting them all at once. Chapters 7-9 are new today, really only split for length. 
> 
> Going forward updates will be closer to what they were before as they are still just twinkles in my eye.
> 
> Enjoy the calm before the storm returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC.
> 
> Playlist add for this chapter is "Future Days" by Pearl Jam, courtesy of Spotify.

I woke from a deep sleep without dreams, without tension. It was disorienting - it was still dark out, and I was tucked snugly beneath my covers. Something was different though. 

_Well, for one, there's a vampire on my bed._ Astarion wore nothing but now-clean black breeches. He was cross-legged, hands resting in a basic meditation pose, and smelling of mint shampoo and my homemade coffee bean soap. Clearly, he had spent another half an hour hanging out in the shower while I slept. Who knew badass elven rogues had such an adorable love of pampering? 

For another, I had no idea what time it was, and I felt woozy as shit. Ah yes, blood loss and . . . something. I searched my feelings, sifted through memories. From what I could tell, I just felt a bit less of my overwhelming emotions. That could explain his emotional release last night. Hopefully it had been beneficial to him - I certainly would not want anything out of my head. 

The way I felt, I considered staying in my little cocoon until he moved, but I suspected that he was only chilling in his trance while waiting for me. That, also, was cute as hell. 

_I am so going to get my ass burned with this guy_. _Crap_. 

I regarded him silently. He looked far better this morning. The circles under his eyes were less dark, he had a touch of color to his face. Unfortunately, his condition was a zero sum game in the real world, and the investment cost was higher than the return. I could not provide all that he needed - ultimately the cost would reach far beyond us. The longer he spent in a place he didn't belong, in a world without constant conflict and violence, the more damage the hunger would demand. 

"I can hear you thinking." His tone sounded somehow far away, and he hadn't yet moved. 

"And what am I thinking about, oh great elven oracle?" Humor drifted his way, light and fluffy against the dark clouds in my heart. 

"Clearly how attentive your lover is to your every desire, ensuring you slept in comfort and woke to some lovely hot coffee, which he learned to make a short while ago." 

"Mmm, your powers over the mind and modern kitchen gadgets are truly transcendent. Also, the way you look in those pants."

"A woman of refined taste." He exited his meditation pose, to stretch out beside me. He was so perfectly balanced and graceful that the mattress barely moved. 

"I must like them tough as hell. I usually have to medicate or shut myself in a closet when dealing with all this emo stuff. You just pull through it on your own."

He gave me a small, almost shy smile. "Well, my people have a lot of practice with inner focus." 

"Oh, right. Do you have to do the meditation thing still, like sleeping?" 

"It is . . . not the same. I choose to do so now." I could feel tension rising in him again. "It helps, and helped . . . before." 

"I'm glad of that." I lifted my head onto a bent arm. "But I vote for a subject change. This is a no brooding elves zone." 

He didn't show his gratitude, but I felt it anyway. His mask slid silently into place, and he raised a dark eyebrow. "So no elves at all, then?" 

"Guess not, Hottie, any more sex will have to be on the living room rug . . . kitchen table . . . Shower maybe." I grinned and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. "Damned elves." 

"Well, that was not polite at all." 

"Yeah?" I sent a laughing challenge his way. "What are you going to do about it?" 

I went to roll away, but was caught easily and pinned to the mattress by the covers. "Already you need another lesson?" He bared his fangs at me. 

Breathless, I attempted to wriggle away but could gain no space. "Humph." 

He bit one of my earlobes gently. "Do you yield?" His voice was close, low and intimate. 

"No." I squirmed against him, play-biting his jaw in retaliation. "Never." 

"Lies. You did last night." He gave a soft laugh that became a strangled sound when I lifted my head and caught a bit of his ear between my teeth, sinking in my teeth then giving it a gentle apologetic suck. 

"You are a terrible minx." The words were clear, but he didn't move away. 

"Everyone has a skill." 

"Indeed some of us have many." He claimed my mouth in a long kiss, slipping beneath the covers and pulling my nakedness against him. Light headed, I closed my eyes as he ran a hand along my side and down along my flank. We shared a leisurely kiss as he pulled one of my legs up onto his hip. 

Even after the time I had slept, he had retained the heat from my body. I slid my hands over his back and shoulders, glad of the moment of unrestricted access. I felt him take a moment to loosen his breeches, a practiced move that raised the tiniest jealousy of whoever had benefited in that learning curve. I didn't have much time to consider it, however, as he slid into me, oversensitive as I was, raining small kisses along my shoulder. 

Where our first coming together had been wild and rough, this time was lingering, all hands and kisses and his body never quite leaving mine. I took my opportunity to stroke his sensitive ears, to pull his hips into me. 

To say we fit perfectly was complete understatement. Each time he slid into me, it sent a wave of sensation through me. I whimpered and moaned without control, my nails scraping against him. He shuddered and kissed me, all sharp teeth and soft lips. 

"So hot, and Gods, you are so wet for me." He murmured against my mouth. "I can feel your body begging me to bring you." 

The mix of his words and his sleek movement was too much. When it came, my release was unexpected, a quick spring storm. His own orgasm wrung a gasp from him when he finally took his own pleasure. We came down together. The light leaked into my windows. 

He stayed in me, cradled in my body. Soft kisses rained along my jaw, and a hand petted my flank. I could hear the radiator, but all else was silent. Peace reigned for an unknown count of minutes. 

Finally, my mortal requirements insisted I respond. "I need to take a moment." I gave a small apologetic smile, and pulled away, slipping out of the room. 

My head swam a little, but no more than from an episode of drinking. More importantly, I ached in the most lovely places. I finished with my needs, and looked into the mirror as I washed my hands.

I put my hair up in its normal messy bun. _Holy crap._ There was no chance anyone could miss the bruise on my neck - I had a love bite of serious proportions. Definitely a day for a scarf. 

I hated to leave our nest, but I knew we had to get some things from the outside world. 

I returned to my bedroom to find him fully sunk into my phone, in the buff, entrenched on my bed. He looked like the hottest morning after photo ever taken - his curls were slightly more casually tossed than usual, his skin gilded by the light from the windows. Knowing that it was my hands that had disheveled him was hella sexy. 

I hadn't had much time to take in the entire picture until now. Slim hips, smooth skin, somehow every part of him was beautiful, even in a casual pose. My traitorous brain threw images of him at me, aroused and ready for me. My artist's fingers itched to paint him, or better yet, create him in pastels with my hands. 

_Yeah, that's happening._

He looked up from the screen, clearly more secure in my presence. His eyes focused on my neck for a moment, possessiveness and self-satisfaction rolled from him in a wave. "Looks like someone had a good time." He teasingly returned to my phone screen. 

Amusement curved my mouth upwards, and I opened my closet, eyeing it doubtfully. "Someone certainly did . . . Someone else is not going to be able to walk at this rate." 

He laughed, low and sleek. I turned back to him, and he gave me the sexiest side-eye, lovely voice wildly seductive. "Wouldn't that be a terrible shame, seems you might be trapped in your house, completely at my mercy." 

I raised my eyebrows and pulled out a gamer t-shirt and skinny jeans. Might as well try to look cute next to the God of the Night over there. "Astarion, you're a public menace, and I'm not talking about the blood sucking." 

He shrugged and returned to his reading. "Well, not only the blood sucking." 

I laughed. "I'm not sure if I should bottle that charisma and sell it, or never let you leave." I went over to my dresser, grabbing something red and sexy. I might spend a lot of time alone, but I'm not completely without ammunition. 

He didn't look up. "I know which one I'm choosing." 

I think my stomach might have dropped fully out of my body. A tiny sound, like a white flag of surrender, escaped me. His lips quirked, a smile of comfortable dominance. 

"So." He looked up, his eyes deadly curious. "I want to see this game you've been telling me about." 

_Well, fuck._ "You sure you want to know?" 

"I have already been reading all about me this morning."

I paused for a moment to look over his shoulder. He was currently scrolling through his own romance guidelines. _Of course._ I raised an eyebrow. "Want to add anything to that list?" 

"Hmm," he caught my hand and pulled me onto him, "red hair?" 

I laughed breathlessly, but he took my mouth, hard, ruthless, none of the expected teasing to be found. All the thoughts left my head at the assault, and he let one hand drift up over my torso to my neck. He pulled away just as his thumb reached his bite mark, and a shot of pain hit me like lightning as he rubbed it, hard. 

"Ahhh . . . Oh hell." It sapped my strength immediately, and I went limp against him. 

He lowered his mouth to the spot, pulling the skin into his mouth. My eyes closed as silver sparks rushed straight to my brain, and he gripped the back of my neck to keep me still. 

His voice held the growl of the monster, closer and more threatening. I froze, uncertain if I were in danger or not. "You are mine, even in this world." 

I whimpered, and he slid his teeth into the abraded spot. I couldn't move, and my eyes closed on their own. "Entirely mine." He took a delicate pull against me, savoring the taste as he let a ribbon of dark red slip down between my breasts. 

"I won't go too far," the words were all darkness and the need for control, "but I want to take you to the edge, keep you weak and pliant. I can't tell you how the idea pulls on me to make you a slave to my needs." 

Somewhere in my brain, alarm bells rang, but I couldn't seem to lift my head and move away. I felt his hand slide between my legs, moving unerringly to my oversensitive nub. I writhed, and a shot of pain hit me when it pulled my skin against his teeth. He slid his fangs into me with every brush of my clit, ensuring that the pain hit me in time with the shocks of pleasure. 

I could not find the strength to resist his invasion, so I was left with tears and sobbing breaths and desperate hitching moans. "I could teach you to love it, to be wet and aroused with only the pain and the blood, to come screaming with the barest of touches." 

He entered me fully with his mouth, purring as my blood flowed, running over his pale chin, down my shoulder. When I dragged in a breath to whine, he pressed three fingers into me as far as they would go, curling into my most sensitive place. 

I let out a groan of arousal, he was purposely ungentle with his teeth, brutal, while his hand pushed into me and his thumb circled my nerve center. The hand around my nape slid upwards, grasping my hair painfully, and it was finally too much. I came in a wave, and it was hard and long, and I could only ride it out with wordless cries. 

Completely wiped, boneless and bleeding, he cradled me in soft arms and set my head against his shoulder. "This is what it means to love the vampire, my sweet. Do you truly submit to me? You are so deliciously beautiful, I have never been so certain in four centuries." 

A tear leaked out of my closed eye, and soft, sweet lips kissed it away. I dragged my eyelids open to see crimson eyes, awed and glowing, filled with sweet entreaty. "Are you truly mine?" 

My voice was hoarse, my throat painful and raw, but the answer was still deadly true. "Yes." 

He captured my mouth again, this time sweet and seeking. He murmured against my mouth, gruff with emotion. " _Thiramin_. How long I have waited for you, you can't even imagine." 

* * * * *

Something had changed between us, but I lacked the words to describe it. He carried me to the bathroom, running a hot bath and depositing me in it with a gentle kiss. A hot cup of coffee was delivered moments later. 

I sank into the water, the heat pulling all the small aches away. _Holy shit, aftercare for days._ "I am completely overwhelmed, you know." My eyes drifted closed, and I let my senses roam as they would. 

I opened my eyes to see him washing his face, a mundane morning routine made alien as he removed the last of my blood. Focusing, he fussed with his hair in the mirror. 

"You look adorable in my bathroom you know." I felt incredibly languid, calm. The arm that reached for my soap and washcloth seemed attached to someone else. 

He grinned at me in the mirror, all sharp teeth and humor. "We agree on many things." He watched me quietly for a moment as lifted a leg from the water to wash my foot. I let it slide back down. 

He moved gracefully to my side. "Let me." 

I closed my eyes as gentle fingers let my hair out. _Oh, no joke, this is happening._ He washed my hair for me, long fingers massaging my scalp, the scent of mint drifting into my awareness. _I could actually die happy right now._

He worked the conditioner through to the ends, carefully detangling the wet strands. He did not speak, just finished the task and wrapped my hair towel into a turban. He kissed my cheek, and I gave him a relaxed smile, completely given over to his ministrations. 

He drained the tub, wrapped me in a towel, and carried me back to my room. "You are spoiling me. Do you really want to set my expectations this high?" 

Humor lurked in his eyes. "Were you an elven lover, we might not leave our bower for days."

"Would we just starve, then?" 

His lips twitched, and he set me on the bed. "The community would provide what we needed, should we run short." 

"Wait, they would bring food so we could just have days of uninterrupted sex?" My face was incredulous; my disbelief prevented me from objecting when he helped me into my underthings. 

"Elves value reproduction and children very highly. They would do what they could to assist in that process."

"Your people are just a tiny bit insane, Astarion." I pulled down the t-shirt, batting his hands away when he reached for a foot. 

He shrugged and surrendered my jeans. "And yours kill each other over the turn of a playing card." 

Fair point. "You've taken such care of me, but I don't have a clean pair of jeans for you." I walked to the closet, amazed at how calm I felt. "Here." 

He caught the t-shirt I tossed at him with an amazing economy of movement. _It's ridiculous, is what that is._

"So your choice - buying things or the game?" 

"I bow to your wisdom, _thiramin._ " 

"Store first, in case you fall into the game and can't get up. Are you going to tell me what that word means, by the way?" 

"Yes." 

I waited for him to continue. "Now?" 

"No." 

* * * * *

I wasn't sure how Astarion would react to a modern store, but aside from drawing a few stares, I would have thought he'd been taking weekly runs to the store his entire life. 

He had calmly accepted the winter hat I gave him, tucking the tips of his ears under and transforming into some hawt model type. Good lord, he looked like he was dressing down to mingle with the plebes. I gave him one of my masks, which conveniently screened the fangs, but it did nothing to hide his graceful beauty. 

A couple passed us, hands touching and laughing. Moments later, cool fingers tangled with mine. I shook my head and turned a grin his way. "I know better, and I'm still fooled. You, sir, are a born performer."

"I don't understand what you mean." He winked, having pulled a perfect local accent out of the air. I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. 

"I'm sure." I tugged him toward the hair products, taking a moment to preen internally at pulling around a 12 out of 10 in my town drugstore. I think a few specific people might have had a coronary to see it. 

Finally his act slipped a little. "It can't possibly be all of this." 

"Oh, it certainly can be." I hid my smile, watching him discover what "way too many choices" felt like. After picking up about 30 bottles, which I realized halfway through he scented without opening, he finally decided on something in coconut and some carefully chosen styling wax. I suspected it was a good thing I hadn't thrown him at a Walmart. 

It was one of the most sweet things I'd ever seen. By the end of the trip, he came away with every high maintenance guy's dream, including a small vial of black nail polish and jet black eyeliner. Taking him clothes shopping was going to blow his freaking mind.

"One last thing." I had saved the wine aisle for last, and it earned me an arm around my shoulders and twinkling eyes. _Ah, pandemic, you irritating thing - I want to kiss his face._

"Do you want to pick?" 

It was clear that he did, so I directed him to the not-terrible reds. We narrowed it down to two, and I turned to head to the front. 

"Hold a moment." He caught my hand. I turned to see him at the fancy chocolate bars. 

"Can you even eat it?" 

"Depends on your definition, I suppose."

"That's some dedication to sweets." I snagged two and checked out, with him playing "casual guy" until we left. 

He dropped the persona on the way to the car. 

"You know, that's a little disturbing." 

"I find fitting in cuts back on the panic and mobs." 

Several heads turned to follow him across the parking lot. "Well it apparently gains you popularity." 

He grinned. "Jealous?" 

I scowled at him. "Nope." 

He just twinkled at me all the brighter, and he winked at the closest bystander. 

"Ass." Laughter followed me to my parking place. 

We got in the SUV, and this time he only gripped the armrest with one hand. It occurred to me on the way to the men's store that they were going to absolutely love him. My poor credit card was going to beg for mercy. _Worth it._

* * * * *

We made it back to my house almost a full two hours later. He was insanely picky, but he had loved being fussed over. 

Silver gray lenses winked at me from his wire sunglasses, and a gray scarf was tossed carelessly around the neck of a black peacoat. Everything looked like it was tailored to him, and he had a fabulous eye for color. He carried in everything, but still managed to help me with my coat. 

He left his sharp black shoes at the door, wandering into the kitchen in a sleek pair of silvery jeans and a fitted mauve button down shirt that kept drawing my eyes directly to his mouth. On a whim, I picked up a staple for visitor experience on the way back - and he had already pilfered a couple of the fries out of the McDonald's bag. 

Without my instruction, he commandeered the automatic wine opener and the bottle of Pinot. "Been puttering around the kitchen, have we?" 

"Possibly." He retrieved two wine glasses from the rack under the wine holder with all the panache of a somm. I suspected he was showing off, which he confirmed with a cork flipped at my back when I went to pull out the food. 

"Fine, I'm watching!" I laughed, and settled into a stool at my island. "I swear, you're an oversized toddler." 

"We will discuss that comment later." He didn't look up. "At. Length." 

I nearly choked on my french fry, but he just set a glass of wine in front of me, swirling his own in his glass. His focus and clear enjoyment of the first sip was a sheer pleasure to watch. 

"Does any of this actually, you know, not come back up?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "Rude." 

"I'm serious."

He moved over behind me, resting his chin on my hair and putting his arms loosely around me. "Well there's this very lovely vintage that quite agrees with me." 

"Hmm, is there now?" I suspected I was smiling like an infatuated teenager. _I'm such a schmuck._

"It has a limited stock, however, so one does what one must." 


	10. Neverland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This took a while, until I realized it was time for a little reveal. Can we believe we are halfway through Part Two?
> 
> Things begin to pick up again going forward. 
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Larian and WotC.
> 
> The playlist add is "High and Dry" by Radiohead, courtesy of Spotify.

When my creative ability returned, it came back with a vengeance. _I guess blood loss must be good for the creative juices, then?_

It began with getting Astarion on my computer. 

To be honest, I was a bit distracted and a lot toasted. We were two bottles of wine in, along with the raspberry chocolate bar that hadn't made it out of the kitchen. There absolutely had been making out up against the island, and it had definitely involved sexy decadence with chocolate. 

He, of course, didn't even seem buzzed - vampire metabolism, no doubt - but I had mostly forgotten to eat over the last 24 hours and had lost blood besides. In short, this was my pick for an interim activity while I got my crap together and sobered up. 

"You're sure about this, right?" I eyed my computer with no small amount of trepidation. _Okay, computer-bro, let's try not to turn into a demonic portal or anything today, aight?_

" . . . Why?"

"Well last time I tried to play it, this elf with beautiful moonlit hair and a terrible attitude showed up with a knife and ravished me multiple times in my own house." _And it was fucking a-mazing. Also, I’m apparently a sex addict now._

I could feel him preen behind me. “Well, darling, no worries there - I’ll protect you from everyone but me," he bent close to my ear, letting his voice dip lower and his breath brush my ear, "particularly for that ravishing bit . . . as long as you remember to ask nicely." 

I laughed even as electricity shot down my spine, reaching back and running my hand through his hair, smoothing a silky curl behind his ear. He let out a small purr. 

My voice deceptively even, I mused, “Hmmm . . . maybe I should practice, then." I dropped my voice into its low range, the one that I'd been told is all smooth sex. "Please, Astarion, please fuck me like the harlot I am."

He made a small choking noise. “Ah . . . yes, that would definitely . . . . inspire,” He growled softly and bit my ear with one fang, "you evil thing." I lost my breath at the pain, fisting my hand in his hair. He licked the small drops of blood that came to the surface. _At this rate, I may never leave my house again._

I dragged my attention back to the computer and flipped the switch on the surge protector with a toe. Thankfully, the power came on without summoning any demons. 

I turned my computer on gingerly, and his focus shifted back to the screen. "Ah, it is like the phone, yes?" 

"Quite a lot. Much more, actually."

So far, everything seemed completely normal, but all of the strange happenings had been tied directly to the game. I wasn't discounting any of my dreams or the strange computer incidents at this point - my prime example of why had gone to nuzzling my earlobe. 

"Fair warning, you keep that up and I'm going to lose interest in this computer awful fast." 

"Computer first, then." 

I showed Astarion the basics as I slid the mouse over to the game. _Yikes._

"Maybe you should click it." _This seems like a terrible idea._

He reached around me, purposely close, and clicked the mouse. "Oh, Gods!" 

I think I jumped about a foot in the air. "Oh no, what?" 

"Ha! Nothing." He grinned at me, his face close to mine as he leaned over my chair, terribly amused at his own humor. 

I gave him a flat look, fighting down a smile. "If you scare me to death, you're on your own - and then who's going to buy you wine and chocolate?" 

"Such foul extortion from such a delicate flower. _You_ are going to corrupt me." He tsked lightly, and fixed his attention back to the screen, taking my hand and settling it back on the mouse. 

I rolled my eyes and hit the launcher. He was very still, and I realized he was checking out his artwork likeness. 

_This is going to get weird._

"Do you want to see Liss?" I wasn't sure how to handle any of this. 

"Oh, I'm quite sure I'll be seeing a great deal more of her very soon." _Will you ever._ "Show me . . . me." 

I grinned at him. 

"How about instead I show you what to do and let you explore as you'd like?" 

_Thank you, mod folks._

I slipped out of the chair and gestured extravagantly for him to sit. 

"You want me to . . . just take over?" He wore the same face as he did that first night in camp. I couldn't help but be amused, as he so rarely was unsure of himself. _Building character, one technology piece at a time._

I reached around him, hand guiding his over the mouse, and I introduced Astarion to himself. 

"Bloody Hells." 

* * * * *

With Astarion set up on the computer, I had time back on my hands. It was . . . strange. _And to think I’ve been finding things to do the entire pandemic - I have one day of companionship, and I’m suddenly craving interaction._

It doesn’t take long for normalcy to kick back in.

I was on my way to look in my refrigerator to stare at it without inspiration for the third time when my eyes snagged on my piano room. My nerves nearly pulled me out of the urge - I didn’t mind playing in front of others, but breaking that wall the first time was always a big deal.

Nothing like realizing your attitude about musical performance sounded an awful lot like your attitude about having sex.

_Huh._

I quietly pulled the french doors closed and let out the need to play that was straining to be released in my head.

I thought at first that I was just having a good day.

Many of the difficulties I had been working out rolled off my fingers without effort. Feeling a bit self-inflated, I pulled out a couple things that I had given up on a month ago and left to the gods of technical ability.

My fingers flew across the keys, as if a well of practice had suddenly come to my hands without the expected effort. It was lovely and invigorating, but a little concerning.

_Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what the crap?_

I lost time, burning through material like I hadn't done in years, lost in movement and emotion of my music. 

Time passed. 

* * * * *

Astarion apparently came up for air hours later after I had eaten and jumped in the shower. 

I was rinsing my hair, when I heard the door. Eyes closed, I greeted him. "Hello." 

"Hello, lover." I opened my eyes to find Astarion eying me around the shower curtain, eyes traveling over me possessively, pausing on the bruises blooming around his wounds. His voice sent a jolt of desire straight to the pit of my stomach. 

"Joining me?"

"I could be convinced." His eyes were hot again. 

_My God, his stamina. I am afraid to get used to this when he could disappear anytime._ I winked at him, covering the bittersweet feelings in my heart. "I never did help you wash your back." 

"Mmm . . . You silver-tongued temptress.” He slipped in, clearly having stripped on his way in. _My God, he’s so presumptuous, and I am completely fine with that._ He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me against him. "So terribly persuasive."

“Well, I was nearly done,” I teased. “Maybe I should slip out so you have more room.” I raised myself on my toes and pressed my mouth to his, hands on those lovely shoulders for balance, _but mostly because yum._

He took the opportunity to smooth his hands over my wet skin and press my hips against him more firmly. “No, you will stay.” His tone brooked no disagreement - a shiver ran down my spine.

I rubbed against him appreciatively, and his kiss grew rough as he turned us and shoved me back against the shower wall. He trailed chill kisses along my jaw. 

His fingers dug into my thighs as he lifted me, legs around him. He wasted no time driving into me in one long thrust, and I let out a gasp. His voice rumbled softly against my neck as he pulled away only to repeat his possession once again. “How do you feel? . . . I want to taste you . . . ” He took my mouth again, pressing into me as far as he could.

“Mmm . . . “ I tried to take a moment to consider, but he felt so good my brain was slow. I slid both hands into his hair and pulled him in for a long kiss, taking every bit of him I could. He devoured me; I tasted blood and he trembled. So lost was I for a few divine minutes that I forgot he had asked a question. 

I whimpered as he pulled back just enough to circle his thumb around my clit while continuing his deep movements against my core. I couldn't stay still, tingles shooting down my legs at my approaching completion, as he ground into me, demanding, merciless. 

It reminded me that he had asked for blood. _Don’t even care . . . I want to feel all of him._ “A little light-headed . . . ” His rhythm was so perfect, it was all I could do to form words at all. “But fine, yes you can . . . Astarion . . . oh yes . . . “ He allowed me no quarter to speak, and my orgasm hit me mid-sentence, sending waves through me as he gave me exactly what I needed so desperately. 

The moment I sagged against him, he turned off the water and set me, still shaky, on my feet. In very short order, he had me wrapped in a towel and swept to my bed, where he pulled me back onto his lap, my legs around him as I slid back down upon him again. I shuddered as I took him in, abraded but so incredibly sensitive to his every twitch and sweet slide. 

I expected him to sink his fangs into my neck, but instead he dipped his head to take a nipple into his mouth. I sucked in a breath as I felt the sharpness of his teeth against me. He sucked hard, painfully, and I stiffened against him, uncertain if he would try to feed from me there and worried about the pain. Instead, he let go and worried the other one with his teeth. I couldn't restrain tiny sounds of pleasure as he gripped my hips and controlled my movements, keeping our joining slow and breath stealing. 

He released my nipple between one thrust and another, driving his fangs into the skin just above the sensitized peak. He gave me no warning, and I let out a small scream as the ice of his bite slid through me. He sucked the wound without any pause, however; long, hard pulls that timed with his movements within me. 

Pleased sounds of his satiation vibrated into my skin, and the lovely feeling of his mouth pulling on me and my blood and feelings sliding into him went to my head. I closed my eyes, letting his arms hold me while he took whatever liberties with me he wished. 

I could feel my submission register with him, and he pulled away to meet my eyes with intensity. A ribbon of my blood slipped down his chin and over my breast and his eyes glowed with power and red light. “You are so delicious, just . . . indescribable.”

Unable to resist the carnal response I knew it would gain me, I bent over and licked the drop from his chin, pressing a kiss to his mouth, tangling my tongue with his, sharing the tiny drop of my blood with him for a crystalline moment.

He let go an overwhelmed whimper of red-hot need and rolled us over, pinning me beneath him, his movements suddenly rough and desperate. He sank his teeth into my other breast, drinking deep from the wound, quick and hard, for only moments before he lost himself in me with a bone-deep groan and a long pull of blood. His release, pulsing so deeply within me, triggered another of my own, crashing through me without warning. 

My heart raced as my head swam, he had taken much blood in a short time, and his teeth were still buried in me. I slid my hand into his hair, my arm as heavy as a stone, as he let go and a matching line of blood slid down my left side. 

His expression radiated with that moment of beatific calm, and I pulled my fingers from his hair to trace the line of his jaw from his ear. I was very dizzy, and words that normally would have remained in my head fell from my lips instead. “Ah, my Astarion, sweet darkness, you are so lovely I am breathless . . . It nearly hurts. I could look on you for a century and still find new points of beauty to admire . . . “

I felt him freeze, he didn't even breathe, but my eyes were so heavy, and I let my hand fall to my chest with a smile as I closed them. I felt warm and secure beneath him despite the overwhelming tiredness that slid through my foggy brain. 

Some indeterminate time later, he kissed my mouth, incredibly gentle. “I think I may have gotten a bit carried away.” I was too wrapped in a comfortable distance to respond. “Your heart is steady - you will be okay.”

I hummed agreeably, and he slid to my side, pulling the blankets over us and settling my head onto his shoulder. “Sleep, _thiramin,_ regain your strength for me, okay?”

He didn’t have to ask twice - I slipped into black sleep.

* * * * *

**_Not this again._ **

I am back in the woods with the mists and the gnarled trees, but this time weak daylight shivers through their branches. 

Off in the trees, a pale haired figure stands in a break in the trees, sunning his face. **_Astarion._** **_Thank heavens._**

I walk toward him, though the mist seems to slow me and the trees try to grab me with reaching branches. Slick roots lay on the ground. 

_~ You cannot reachhhhh him ~_

"Oh great, you're back." 

Sibilant hissing laughter echoes through the trees, bigger somehow. The mist creature does not show itself. 

The way is suddenly clearer, and I keep walking. 

_~ No greeting for your friend little moussssse? ~_

"Are you kidding? You attacked me before." 

_~ Ssssscared you yesssss but gave you a Gift ~_

I am not gaining any ground on Astarion. "Astarion?" My voice echoes only around me, he does not respond. 

_~ He isssss not fully here ~_

"Is he safe?" I slow and look around to try to find the sleek gray thing slipping through the trees. 

More laughter follows my words. 

_~ Always a pleasssssure my pet ~_

"I'm not your pet. Why don't you show yourself? Why is he stuck? What did you do to him?" 

Mist wraps around my ankles.

 _~ Sssss_ o _many quessssstionsssss ~_

"So try answering some, if you are so friendly." I cross my arms, and kick at the mist. It is not less disturbing that it recoils. 

A hiss that speaks of nothing but irritation slides around me. 

_~ Very well Your isssssue isssss not with me I found him ~_

"So you claim to be helping him." Astarion has settled into the ground in his small patch of sun. _Does he not see how wet the ground is?_ "Why are you not visible?" 

There is no response to my statement. “You know, choosing not to respond isn’t helping your case - neither is refusing to come out.”

_~ Ssssscare you ~_

“Seriously, I was fine until you went all boa constrictor on me.” I can’t help but notice that the forest feels less oppressive this time. “Are you bringing me here?”

 _~ No ~_

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the creature materialize from the mist, this time it is more distinct. I can see the hint of red eyes, shifty and quick, a black streak of a mouth, the outline of sharp teeth, monstrous and terrifying. Some small part of my brain that isn't horrified takes note of the teeth . . . _Explains the hissing._

I back away from it, but it follows, once again sparking the lines of indistinct silver that slip out from my skin. 

I hear the laughter again, this time following the creature as it moves sinuously within the midst. There's a touch of frustration, but the predatory grace of the thing blanks my mind to nearly anything else. 

_~ Foolishhhhh moussssse afraid sssssee ~_

"Better the devil I can see." It brushes against me, too fast to fend off, shockingly close and personal. "Hey! Cut it out. What was this gift?" 

_~ Broke the tether it took much power ~_

"I don't understand, dammit. Give me a straight answer!"

The thing stops behind me, red orbs giving the feeling of confusion. It hisses in fear, lowering itself to all fours, cowering behind me. 

_~ Protect usssss He isssss angry ~_

"Wait, what?" Just that quickly, the sky clouds again, the enormous presence is back, and this time it is furious. 

**_~ Where are you you ungrateful cur ~_ **

The trees bend in a terrible wind, mists swirling wildly. My eyes snap to Astarion in concern. He finally reacts, covering his face in his hands as black clouds swirl over the wood, close and threatening. _How the hell am I supposed to protect anybody?_

**_~ Damn you What have you done ~_ **

The clouds focus over Astarion, as if they seek a way to tear him from the ground. I swear I can nearly feel the fear shaking him, he curls up on the ground still covering his face. 

_Shit, I need to do something._ In the moment, in my desperation to protect him, the only thing that came to mind was to draw the thing's attention to me and pray I could wake up or that it was just a dream and I would be fine. 

**"Back off!"** I only yell, but my fear for Astarion is like a weight in my chest. My voice rings through the woods like the wave of a deep bell. 

The attention of the presence turns on me in an instant. 

**_~ What is this You do not belong here ~_ **

_Shit, shit, shit, fucking now what?_

I try to hold the vision of the barrier of protection, but the wind still shifts my hair into my eyes. 

_~ Help usssss ~_

Nothing is left of the predator in the thing that cringes behind me. I can feel the presence pricking at my thoughts, working to gain access and control. 

"Oh, fuck right off with that." The clouds now swirl over my head, an angry vortex that pulls at the silver filaments, trying to gain a hold. 

I look over to see Astarion staring our way, but I realize it is again not him. The face is the same, but this doppelganger is infused with a glow of health, there is no gray cast to his skin. He is far from me, but even from the distance I can see that his eyes are light, glowing slightly in the dimness. 

The wind tears at me more strongly, the testing of my will is sharper, more painful. 

_Well until I know what the hell is going on, I think we're safe to assume that this bastard is the bigger baddie. Fucking think, idiot._

I had literally nothing else to go on, but the shielding was clearly doing something. I could feel the pressure of the presence pushing against it, searching for a weak point. _Oh, well . . . I mean, that's at least something._

I swore the creature behind me gives an audible whimper, a pitiful sound, small and helpless against the storm. _Yeah, there's always a bigger fish. Guess we give that a try, can't do any worse than nothing._

I focus on the feeling of the presence pressing against the fragile barrier, doing my best to find its features, to grasp whatever essence made it. 

I pull back on it like a slingshot, and visualize it exploding, forcing my thoughts outward like a picture of a mushroom cloud. I feel the presence resist for a moment, frustration at the failure of its persuasion. 

**"Get the hell OUT."** I drive every thought in my brain outward, against the oppressive presence, and I feel it finally give, scrabbling for purchase and then slipping away from perception. 

All that remains is the silent wood, but I slip toward blackness. The last thing I see is the ground coming up to meet

* * * * *

me. 

I opened my eyes with a gasp, the feeling of falling in a dream pulling me straight up in bed. 

"Holy shit!" 

My heart raced, and I looked around my room. It was empty, but a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea hit me like a hammer, and I fell back against my pillow. 

"Ugh, what kind of hellish fucking hangover bullshit is this?" I borrowed back under the blankets, the light beating into my eyes like a jackhammer on speed. 

I heard the front door snick closed, and after a few moments, footsteps padded into my room. 

"You are hiding?" 

I mumbled from my nest. "Hung. Over. Or dead. Actually that’s probably better." _Soooo sick, oh my God, actually._

The light dimmed through the blankets, and I peered out over the top of my comforter, blinking. Astarion drew the curtains at my window. _You blessed thing._

He looked over my way with a pitying grin, stretching out on the other side of the bed. "I haven't known humans to be adorable."

I scowled at him. "You still haven't. This is my grouchy face." 

He laughed, rolling over and kissing me, soft, gentle. I softened too, the anxiety receding from the dream to feel him for real after seeing his doppelganger cowering from . . . 

"Oh, no. Oh, shit." I sat up, nearly knocking him in the chin. 

He rolled back to his side, saving his face, dexterous as always. He lifted his eyebrow. 

"Astarion, this is going to sound crazy, but your eyes . . . well, uh, did they change? When you, you know." 

He gave me a puzzled look. "Yes. How do you know that? They were pale blue." 

"Well, fuck." I looked off into the middle space for a moment, considering the ramifications of whatever psychic dream whammy I'd thrown at the terrifying storm. 

"So, interesting news. I think I might have sucker-punched Cazador." 

  
  
  



	11. Naturalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pass halfway in Part 2, and we begin to see the shape of the future in the next chapter.
> 
> For now, enjoy the next installment, I will try to update more often when I leave us all in suspense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Larian and WotC - so much fun bringing your creations to us.
> 
> Official Spotify add for this chapter is "Magic," by Colbie Caillat.

"Could you repeat that once?" 

I fell back onto my pillow, my poor head pounding like a bass line. 

Already I was second guessing myself, wondering if I had enough reason to drag Astarion into the anxiety meltdown that would surely follow. 

_So, hey babe, I have been dreaming about some mean storm cloud and not-you was there and scared. Also there's a scary shadow thing, and I saved the not-you by thinking really hard._

"Lissa?" 

"I had the worst dream." I was absolutely prevaricating, and I wasn't even doing it well. Astarion was showing signs of impatience at my lack of forthright explanation. The role reversal was not lost on him - he was not usually the one trying to dig around in my head, and it was clear he didn't much care for doing it. 

"Sorry, I guess it could have been a dream, but it's that damned forest again. I dreamt of it twice now." 

"Which forest?" He held in check a more demanding tone - it as much as told me that he had already surmised the answer. 

"The one where you saw the Bat-fucker, the one in your dream." 

His expression was carefully neutral, but a twinge of frustration at the exposure of his personal thoughts and feelings hid behind it. _So he's pissed that the game broadcasted them - guess who played his own storyline?_

I could see his point. As I recalled, he had few ways to preserve his pride when dealing with his ex-Master. 

"And . . . did you see Cazador?" 

"Well, I mean, no. It was . . . really strange." 

I gave him a basic rundown of what I had experienced, stumbling over the description of the way I had rebuffed the effort at . . . mind control? Telepathy? _. . . Killing me in the Matrix?_ Really, I hadn't done much except tell the Big Angry Thing to quit trying to violate my fucking brain and leave not-Astarion the hell alone. 

_Too bad I can't do anything like that in real life. A ten foot literal bubble around me in public would be fucking stellar._

"So it _is_ possible that you just had a bad dream - I opened this game of yours yesterday, after all. Perchance it upset you more than you realized.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. “I mean, yes, but that is why I asked about your eye color. It felt real." 

His expression was drawn, and it occurred to me that he was trying to hide his worry from me. “Just to be sure, then, do you believe he was able to discern anything about you? Did he gain access to your thoughts?”

“I don’t think so, no.” I shuddered in memory. “But it felt like these awful claws were trying to get in there. Still, I have no idea what kind of link he has with the other creatures in the wood. The shadow thing recognized that I was different - if he can access its thoughts . . . ”

“Then we will continue as we have been - careful and vigilant. We are away from him here, either way. Try not to worry.” 

I sat up a bit nodding, only to throw the blankets off and scramble to my bathroom when the nausea finally won. 

I took a minute to just sit there on the floor, a pitiful, sweaty lump. _So, this probably isn’t a hangover. Terrific._

Astarion saw that I wasn’t getting back up, and he leaned down, strong arms picking up the hot mess that I was. "Bloody Hells, woman," He looked at me carefully. "You are pale, you look exhausted. You are sick with blood loss. My apologies, I must have taken more than I thought." His brows knit together in concern. 

I felt irritatingly fragile and painfully mortal. "I'll be fine." 

His confusion lit on me with sudden intent. "Darling," his soft tone and the endearment did nothing to cover the warning underneath his words, "were you already feeling ill when I asked?" 

I set my jaw, and my lips thinned. 

Tension slid through him, and he set me gently on my bed again. I tried and failed to suppress a wince as dizziness washed over me. He placed a hand on either side of my legs. Stubbornness equal to my own, and with 400 years of experience, burned in dark eyes inches from my face. "Are you planning to answer my question?" 

"I will be _fine."_ Now that he was in my face, I recognized that I _might_ have misled him _a tad_ the night before. It didn't change my mind. 

"I'm waiting." His eyes narrowed, implacable. 

My brows lowered, growing angry at his insistence. "Fine, yes, I was. I made the decision, so it's my fault."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He opened them again, forcing his face smooth. 

When he spoke his fangs glinted. "So you lied to me about a risk to your person yet again?" Despite his best effort, his voice rose slightly at the end. “Do you have _any_ self-preservation _?”_

I turned defensive. "That's unfair. I was fine, I didn't li . . ." 

I saw the moment his temper snapped - the ruby in his eyes flared like a struck match. "Oh, but you absolutely did. Gods rutting dammit, Lissa!" He pushed off the bed and left my room at angry-vampire speed, his body blurring to my sight. He slammed the door behind him so hard that the wall shook with his force. 

Silence reigned and my head swam. _Well, today can fuck right off a cliff._

I scowled at the ceiling, angry that now I was dealing with the consequences of my actions and his temper too. 

I couldn't hang onto my pique at him, of course, mostly because I knew exactly who was in the wrong. I had nearly talked myself into dragging my sick ass out of my room to go find him when the door opened. He came in with a tray with a glass of juice, a protein bar, and a cup of tea. He had clearly calmed down, but he was far from happy. 

"Now," he set the tray on my nightstand and handed me the juice, "we are going to agree on some rules." His words were short and clipped. 

I opened my mouth to respond, and he held up one finger. "No." 

I snapped my mouth back shut. 

"First, when I ask you if you are feeling _any_ symptoms from my feeding, you will answer me, and more importantly, you will be honest. You _cannot ask me_ to restrain both _you_ and my nature. Second, you will immediately desist in risking your life like a brazen fool. This fascination you have with death ends now - I will not _allow_ either you or I to be the cause of your death." He leaned closer, letting me see the emotions still roiling within. 

I raised my eyebrows at his blunt handling of an intrinsic piece of my mental health diagnosis. I felt my temper spark again, but I didn't comment. _You can go right to Hell, though, darling._

His voice was as low as I’d heard it, but as sharp as a razor. “Finally, you will agree that if you infringe on _either_ of these rules going forward, I swear on whatever frayed bit of soul I still have, I will take _whatever actions necessary_ to ensure your safety." 

He took a deep cleansing breath, taking the empty juice glass delicately and swapping it out for the tea. His face dangerously neutral, he added, "You may speak." 

I lowered my brows at his autocratic command, trying to keep in mind that he had a right to be pissed. "Fine, but I have a mental illness. You can't just demand I stop being sick." 

He didn't care for my answer. "I am not sure what that means, but I can accept no leeway on this, if that is what you are asking."

I opened my mouth to argue further, but I caught his gaze in that moment, and it was positively ragged. The fight went out of me, and I sagged against the headboard. "I will do what I can. I don't wish to argue, and you have a right to be angry with me." 

"You believe that is the issue? That I am _angry_ with you?" His face was more troubled, if possible. 

" . . . Yes?" I sipped my tea to cover my confusion. 

He picked up my other hand, trying to gentle the strain in his words. He looked pained. "I am not used to the high expectation you hold for me and my kind - it will not serve you well." 

He stared at my fingers, small and thin in his. He returned his eyes to mine after a moment. "I am fearful for you - the monster does not regret bringing you this illness." I quit breathing as the shadow rolled behind his eyes, dark, maddened with unending hunger. "Forcing you to serve my needs, draining you, over and over, weakening you, flirting with your death - part of me _craves_ it like nothing else." 

His voice held the whispering scrape of dead leaves on a sidewalk, and he looked terribly alien, his civil exterior held only by threads. 

"Part of me wishes you would loose that arrow." I turned my eyes away. 

His lips brushed my fingers. 

After a moment, he spoke again in a whisper. "Don't make me the dagger that saps your life. Surely you have that much mercy in you." 

I sighed and rubbed my thumb over his knuckles. "I will find it. I apologize for putting you in a no-win situation."

He lifted my hand and bit my thumb lightly, drawing my eyes back to him. He must have found his sense of humor, because he shot me a grin full of mischief. "Quite the opposite, my dear. The blood and sex is quite winning." 

“I have to agree.” I blinked up at him, a bit starry-eyed but fast running out of energy. 

He bent over me again, placing his hands to my sides as he had before, but this time soft lips teased mine to open. When they did, he invaded smoothly, demanding, and any interest in resisting him flew out of my brain. 

He pulled away, and the protein bar dropped into my lap. He waited until I had choked the thing down and finished my tea, before settling me back beneath my covers. 

I fell back asleep beneath his watchful eye, but this time I did not recall if I dreamed. 

* * * * *

I woke to the sense that it was early afternoon, muzzy-brained but free of nausea. _Thank God. Maybe let's don't do this again. Like ever. Makes my Tequila Incident look like a walk in the fucking park._

My mouth was dry yet again, but he had left a glass of water next to me. I drank half of it at once, more thirsty than I'd been in my entire life. 

Almost like magic, Astarion slipped into the room, kissing me between demands that I sip more water. When I set it aside, he gave me a sizzling look. "Time to get you out of those clothes." 

I laughed, incredulously. "Did you finally have a mental break while I slept?”

“Possibly, but you will trust me anyway.” He shucked his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth movement, revealing lean beauty and smooth skin. I pictured putting those sleek lines to paper, the mix of firm muscle and luminous skin softly lit in my mind. 

“Mmm . . . a drink _and_ a show.” _Lord save me._

Devastating smile flashing into place, he prowled toward me while he unfastened his jeans, somehow kicking them off gracefully before relieving me of my long sleep shirt and underthings. 

I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He was so beautiful - slim hips, long legs, sexy shoulders - everywhere my eyes traveled was tantalizing and lovely to view. 

I let him have his way, quiet and docile, amused to see what he had planned. He wasted little time, picking me up and kissing me on the way to the bathroom, where my oversized tub steamed with the scent of lavender. He carried me like I weighed nothing, stepping into the tub and settling me in front of him, arms around me.

“You got me a bath. So nice.” I hummed and let my head fall back to his shoulder, stress floating away.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He sudsed a sponge and ran it over my collarbone and down my arm. “This is my bath, and I obviously required company.” He plucked my other arm from the water and gave it a gentle scrub. "You owe me - you were so terribly cruel to me earlier.”

I huffed at him, but it lacked all substance beneath his ministrations. “I can’t find any reason to object to you bathing me when we argue.” 

He touched the tip of his tongue to my exposed neck as he ran the soap down over my breasts and belly. He murmured against my skin as he lifted my leg with one of his slender feet, washing it but stopping just short of touching me where the heat pooled. “Mmm . . . adjustments must be made during your recovery . . . next time I will simply find a better use for that bloody insolent mouth of yours. Truly, you must learn to comply - I will not tolerate your resistance.” 

My heart hammered in my ears at his words - I had half a mind to sass him right then and there, but he lifted my other leg and repeated the process. I tried to summon the energy but gave up as his fingers gave a disciplinary twist to my nipple with his fingers. I let out a long, ragged breath. _Joke's on you, love, that sounds totally hawt._

“Now, my dear," his voice rumbled beneath my ear, "I would ask you to remember that you brought this upon yourself.”

I was so relaxed and boneless in his arms that I merely rolled my head to look at his face. “Sorry, what now?”

Those long, lovely feet wrapped themselves around my legs, trapping them down and pulling them apart. 

"I am feeling kind today. Will you take your punishment now or later?" 

My eyebrows shot up as an iron arm slid across my throat. _Ohhh . . ._

I relaxed into him further. _Holy shit._ "Later when I feel better, and because I have an idea."

Astarion's other hand slid over my torso, letting his fingers trace across my breasts, dip over my navel, smooth over the curve of my hips. "You have my attention, _thiramin."_

"Food, tea . . . pastels. You, nude by my fireplace. I'm having such an indescribable urge to put you on paper, and it appears I'm not doing much else today."

His hand continued its motion, teasing touches coming closer to the part of me that craved him more by the second. "While normally, I would be quite against being used for art, again, I must confess having your eyes on me while you are forced to remain distant does sound like . . . an experience." I felt his erection twitch against my lower back in a lovely counterpoint to my own arousal. 

His lips trickled their way from my ear down my throat as he slid his fingers gently across the V he still held open, like he strummed a guitar string. The feeling reverberated through me like the ring of a note. I tried to rub against him, but he had me effectively immobilized. 

I let my eyes fall closed as he played me. He pulled the skin of neck into his mouth with a soft growl, taking care to stop just short of breaking skin, but sucking hard enough to leave a deep mark. It hurt nearly as much as his bite. 

He released my neck, but I felt him tremble at the self-denial. A small sound escaped him and sharp nails dug into my hips. 

I hissed at the sting, and asked him breathlessly, "Should you be testing your control?" 

He breathed in my scent. "I should not. I simply can't seem to care." His voice was hoarse, but he relaxed his hands, returning to his maddening touches. 

Released from his grip, I moved reflexively against him. It brushed my skin against his mouth, and he exhaled in a rush. He ran his tongue slowly along the line of my pulse. His voice growly, he warned, "You should stay . . . very still."

He made it almost impossible, rolling a nipple between his fingers and dragging a few last touches across my clit. When I groaned and failed to remain still, he released me, extricating himself from behind me. 

I made a frustrated sound at the loss of his attentions. He chuckled and cast teasing eyes my way that glowed like flames with a need that matched my own. Desire spiked along my nerves and my heart sped. 

His grin was sharp, visibly reacting to the sound, and his voice became dark silk. "Just making sure you're in the right mood to pay proper attention to your model." 

* * * * *

I laughed aloud. "Hold still, you irreverent scamp." 

In true Astarion fashion, since he was forced to stay out of reach physically, he instead drove me crazy in every way he could. 

"Sorry, darling, didn't notice what I was doing." Guileless eyes, wide and sweet, met mine over his shoulder. 

"If you end up with an overlarge nose you will have no one to blame but yourself."

"Your terrible treatment of me continues," he scoffed, resuming his pose. 

In truth, his constant stream of hilarious commentary and crude gestures just made me want to toss my art supplies to the wind and join him on my fur throw. 

He was just so beautifully made. Every line was a touch more graceful, a bit more streamlined than a human. He faced the fire, one leg bent, arms draped thoughtfully. The flames played on his luminous skin, highlighting his moonlight hair with gold, warming his chill complexion. 

The drawing had flowed from my hands, most certainly in the style that I recognized, but with an ease of creation that was not familiar at all. While I dipped into the shadows and lifted the highlights as they played on his skin, my brain worried at that detail like a loose tooth.

“So I was considering how best to complete your punishment . . . I had considered holding you down myself, but now I wonder if you might have something a bit more . . . restraining . . . than your lover.”

_He is going to kill me with blood loss or sex . . . maybe both. My poor heart is just going to give out._

Aloud, I teased him in return. “Well we certainly don’t want to overtax you - I could see how trying to hold me still while administering this punishment could be quite difficult.” My voice was conversational, although his constant reminders of both his availability and the role of control he had taken in our relationship left my nethers feeling heavy and just uncomfortably aroused enough to draw attention.

He snorted audibly. “You will not draw me in with such irritating barbs. I will show you my capabilities at the time of my choosing.”

I smiled, and it showed in my voice. “Irritating, my dear?” I blended a lovely line of fire lighting the loose curls on his neck. “I thought that was me encouraging you to take care that I don’t wear you out.”

He peeked at me again over his shoulder, adorably coquettish and driving me absolutely crazy. The drawing was near done, and frankly, so was I. His fingers trailed up his thigh and his eyes were heavy lidded. He did nothing to hide his obvious arousal - instead he had been teasing me by touching himself in my peripheral vision.

I gave the drawing a once over with a critical eye, somewhat unnerved by the lifelike glow I had captured. It had been one thing when my piano technique had come back out of nowhere, but the coincidences were mounting.

My eyes grew unfocused as I recalled the words of the shadow creature in my dream . . . _”gave you a Gift“_ it had claimed. _Does this have something to do with it? Hell, was he talking about Astarion? Did that damned thing bring him here somehow?_

The lovely creature on the floor was rising and moving my way, completely without any concern for his own nudity. “Are you done, my dear?” His eyes twinkled as he noticed how I had to drag my eyes up to meet his. 

“I am.” I tucked my legs over so he could sit beside me, but instead he picked me up and dropped me onto his lap. I could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against me. A tremor slid up from that point of contact, straight into my brain.

“I am . . . actually nearly speechless.” He brought my mouth to his for a soft moment, the kind of obvious emotiveness that was always so difficult to catch with Astarion. “That is how you see me?”

I laughed gently. “I am pretty sure that is how most everyone does.”

“I can assure you it is not . . . you made me appear brushed with magic and moonlight, you know.”

I took a small risk myself, in return for the real reaction he shared with me. “I only draw what I see.”

I leaned in to kiss him as squealing tires sounded outside my house, and the noise of crunching metal echoed out in the dark street.


	12. Nexus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems like I'm just destined to leave us all with cliffhangers as Part 2 drives the story forward. This chapter's hilarious interactions brought to you by suburban / small-town America. It's funny when its not actually happening.
> 
> I will try to continue to roll out content quickly so I don't leave ya'll hanging. Send speedy homework vibes, won't you?
> 
> Enjoy, my friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Larian and WotC for being generally cool.
> 
> Thanks to my followers and commenters for all the awesome motivation and inspiration. Much more fun to spin out the story with ya'll. 
> 
> Add to the unofficial playlist for this chapter is "Wolves" by Selena Gomez and Marshmellow, courtesy of Spotify.

For obvious (and lovely) reasons, I went out alone to a tragic situation. 

Another of my neighbors was already out in the street calling 911 beside a smashed car, the driver bent over a body. "He isn't responding. Oh my God, he just walked out in front of me!" 

My neighbor began describing the situation to the operator as I joined the driver with the man on the ground. 

All the breath left my body. Familiar paraphernalia hung from leather gear - a set of long daggers, wickedly sharp, a crossbow that had been broken on impact lay beside him, and various stoppered bottles and several _fucking wooden stakes_ were looped into his gear. 

He was quite clearly a monster hunter, and shit had just got real.

"Does he have a pulse?" I asked the driver, who appeared to be in his early 20s. I reached up to check, but only stillness met my fingers. 

"Well?" The driver was panicking, and I shook my head. 

A hand rested on my shoulder as Astarion joined me, hat over his ears, clothed in black, the convenient pandemic mask firmly in place. 

His smooth voice cut into the tension. "Let's get some of this off of him for when the . . . they arrive." The persona from the drugstore was fully in play - the driver and my neighbor would have been hard pressed to notice anything off in the dark. 

Grateful for the direction, the driver of the car set to assisting him with the task. 

Leaving the disposal of the hunter's gear in Astarion's capable hands, no doubt it would disappear quietly in the shuffle, I went over to my neighbor, who sat on hold. 

"Hey, Lissa." Anne's voice was dramatic, high-strung. This was precisely the kind of thing she lived to be in the middle of. "Can you believe it? The poor man, just lying there. The driver, he said his name is Richard, by the way, said that man ran out in the street, directly into his car! He didn't even have time to hit the brakes until he had already hit him!" 

"It's a real sad thing, no doubt." The last thing I wanted to do was draw Anne's attention to myself, so I would have to let her natter on about the accident. _Ugh._ No doubt the HOA meeting would be agog for weeks about Anne's "exciting" night. _Nevermind the dead guy._

The hunter was efficiently stripped of his gear, leaving me to wonder how often Astarion had been forced to dispose of the evidence. Only the strange old-timey clothing was left to raise eyebrows. _At least that can be explained away easily enough._ The driver, _Richard, I guess_ , had pulled out a bright blue grocery bag from his trunk, and the hunter's small arsenal was stowed. He returned his attention to the victim, and Astarion moved back into the shadows. 

"Yes, most definitely. Your _friend_ is being most helpful. I don't think we've seen him around before."

_Well, that was quick._

She didn't wait for a response from me, she just set off toward him, a ship at full sail. I had no time to give him a forewarning, but he saw her approach. I was at her heels. 

She hadn't even come to a full stop before she started interrogating him. "So nice to meet one of Lissa's . . . _friends_." She was clearly dying to find out a personal detail - I was not a public person. Apparently, that just made everything more juicy. 

I inserted myself in the conversation, thinking fast. "Anne, this is Rion Aster. Rion, this is my neighbor Anne." 

She stuck out her hand. _So much for the pandemic, Anne._

Astarion's eyes crinkled with that oh-so-charming mask of a smile, and he shook her hand warmly. "So nice to meet you, Anne, I haven't had a chance to meet many of my Lissa's friends."

My eyes widened. _"My Lissa?" You might as well fire off a road flare, Hottie_. Still, despite myself, a tiny bit of my secret heart tilted in response. 

As expected, Anne's gossip brain kicked into high gear, preparing to pump him for any information she could get. "Well, we _definitely_ need to fix that - I didn't know that Lissa had a young man." 

Despite the potential dumpster fire that we were smack in the middle of, his eyes twinkled at me. "Well, you know our Liss, she's just so private." 

Anne giggled like a little girl, and I rolled my eyes. "Oh, she sure is. These young people. I have to assume that since you are staying with her that things are serious. Will we be seeing you around, then?" She was like a terrier with her favorite toy - other people's personal lives. 

"Oh, it's definitely serious." He shot me a smoking glance, which she couldn't miss. "Indeed you will be seeing me, unless she kicks me out the door, of course." 

Anne patted his arm. "No worries there, we haven't seen any other young men since . . . well, for a while. That's a story for another day, but it is _so_ nice to see her moving on from all that." She actually winked at him. 

I made a choking noise at the clear reference to my former marriage, but thankfully, an ambulance siren broke over the neighborhood. The couple across the street came out at the sound, and Anne made a beeline for their porch. 

Even with an ambulance sitting in front of my house attending to _a_ _dead guy_ , I could see her talking animatedly with my other neighbor Jess, gesturing at me. 

"Our hunter friend's possessions are happily away from interested eyes." 

"I wish we could just make him disappear as easily. This is bad." I saw Anne marching back our way, Jess in tow. A cop car pulled in behind the ambulance. "Oh, for the love of all that is holy and pure, she’s bringing backup." 

Astarion chortled in evil glee. 

"You're enjoying this," I muttered in disbelief. "Do you think this is quite the time?" 

"Oh, I am quite aware that we have a problem." He slid his arm around me, possessively, his hand stroking over my hip. "Smile for the neighbors, my dear." 

I elbowed him in the ribs as he was introduced to Jess; he just gave me an obvious squeeze in return. 

"So, where are you from?" 

"I'm between places right now, actually." I could feel him shaking in silent amusement _._

Jess gave him a conspiratorial grin. "Well, it looks like you might have a reason to stick around." 

_Oh, for Pete's sake. Does anyone care that somebody died? Anyone?_

"Well, I'm certainly convinced." 

"Well, see if you can get our Lissa to come out of that house a bit more." Anne looked back to Jess. "We were just saying the other day that she's been so cooped up in that house of hers, weren't we, Jess?" 

"Really, Anne, wouldn't you be if you had such a charming new beau?" Jess laughed much too loud, and a paramedic shot us a dirty look. 

Astarion gave a low, silky laugh. "I approve of your line of thinking." 

While Jess tittered at his comment, I retrieved his hand from my hip. "I think we will go ahead and get out of the way. Nice to see you guys." 

I dragged my _charming new beau_ back to the house. 

"We have monster hunters running around my fricking neighborhood, and you're having afternoon tea with the neighborhood gossip string?" My voice was a snarky whisper. 

“When one is courts a lady, one courts her circle as well.” _Oof, sexism._ Still, the modern independent woman I was, when he let that comment hang in the air for a moment, nearly tripped over my own feet up my front steps. _He is_ courting _me? Does that mean what I think it does?_

He appeared blithely unaware of my reaction, as he opened the door for me. _I don’t buy it - Astarion is many things, but “blithe” and “unaware” aren’t in his DNA._

He continued speaking as I threw the deadbolt immediately. "I think it's safe to say that your little visit to the woods was more serious than I'd hoped." 

I dragged my meandering brain out of the idiot Cinderella fantasy place that was still hanging in my head somewhere. Turns out, that shit’s incredibly persistent. "They followed me back?" 

"Possibly - I am not sure how my transition occurred. It is also possible that you did not resist as successfully as you’d hoped." 

I shivered at the idea of that Thing gaining access to my head. "Or my evil little friend gave me up, by choice or otherwise. Dammit. We have no way to know if this hunter was alone or if he brought a friend." 

I opened my Emergency Liquor cupboard, downing two fast swigs of rum straight from the bottle. He reached around me and plucked it from my hand. "You recall your condition." 

"If I'm going to get smoked, better I get smoked after a good spot of rum." I peered out my kitchen window, watching the ambulance pull away. 

"I'll assume that's a creative term for getting killed. I will keep you safe, one way or another." He stood behind me, and he placed a soft kiss on my neck.

"That's the least reassuring addendum I've ever heard." I turned in his arms to face him, my expression miserable, resting my head on him for a moment. Pulling away, I slipped around him, flipped the deadbolt on the front door, and turned on the outside light. 

"I should check to see if there is evidence of a portal outside. Also, I must feed tonight." His mind was whirring, but he must have heard me thinking, because he added, “Don’t even think of offering, you must let your body recover.”

I sighed in irritation and worry. "We don't know if it's safe to go out."

"You will not worry." He slipped his leather helm over his head, covering him entirely in black but for his glowing eyes beneath the hood. "None will see me." 

I felt sick, but I nodded. _My stupid dreams put us in danger._ He disappeared into the darkness outside the back door. 

* * * * *

I turned the lights off in the house waiting for him. Resting on the living room floor, backed up against the couch, away from any window, I had little to do but obsess. _Not like I have any great plan if someone breaks in._ I had the daggers from the hunter, but there was a better chance of me being disarmed and stabbed with them than anything else. 

I heard a light knock at the door. I peered over the couch to see a black figure crouching at the back door. _Thank God._

I opened the deadbolt, and he slid inside. I jammed it fast behind him. 

"There is nothing I could find. No doubt he was pushed through the same portal as myself."

With that pronouncement, he stripped off his black clothing and picked me up, taking my mouth in a savage kiss, sharp teeth and emotion, and carrying me off to my room. He set me on the bed and divested me of my clothing with remarkable efficiency. Stretching out at my side, he wasted no time returning to kissing me again while he nudged my legs apart with his hand. 

Between his lovely rough kisses, I managed to ask, "What has gotten . . . into you?" 

His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his hand immediately began a devastating plundering, slipping two fingers into me while circling my clit with his thumb. 

"Mmm - you have that quite the wrong way around." He withdrew his hand once the first shivers of fiery arousal slid through me. "I'm actually getting . . . into you." He pulled me on top of him, my thighs straddling him, his hands gripping my hips with absolute control. “The sooner . . . “ he brought me down on him, adjusting once, twice, “ . . . the better.” 

He buried himself to the hilt. A cry was wrenched from me at the unexpectedly immediate invasion. He offered no quarter, moving masterfully beneath me and guiding my hips. I fought to find breath as he ground against my most sensitive places, weakness sapping any resistance as I melted into his hands, into his rhythm. He was bringing me in record time, and I could tell that he was on edge already.

He was unbelievably hard, his movements and demeanor spoke of a terrifying desperation and finality. _You deceive youself, love, if you believe_ _I will ever accept that._

It was the last cogent thought in my head before my body took over - the inexorable movement against my G-spot brought me in a rush, and I whimpered at the still-insistent grind of him against me. 

That show of vulnerability seemed to hit him at the most visceral level, and he growled in his throat and gripped me with his nails as he came, his head falling back. His pleasure was mesmerizing, his face fierce as it washed through his body. 

When it subsided, he pulled me to lay down on him as if he craved the feel of me against him.

"I'm scared." 

"I know.” The hand that stroked over my back was unsteady, from anxiety or completion I could not tell. “Sleep now, we will discuss things in the morning. I will ensure your safety tonight." 

I nodded, leaving to handle my needs before sliding down beside him and pulling the coverlet over us. I rested my hand on his still chest, watching as he recalled the habit of breathing at my touch. 

"I need you to promise you won't even think of disappearing in an idiot move to protect me." Those breaths stilled for a moment. _That’s what I thought._

“No decisions will be made before morning, and you still need to recover. Rest.” Tension was in the arm I lay upon. “Please, Lissa. I need some . . . time.”

I nodded against him and closed my eyes.

* * * * *

I was unsurprised to find myself in the goddamned wood again.

“Okay, where are you?” I could still see not-Astarion in the mists, but he had returned to not noticing my presence.

Nothing moved in the wood.

“C’mon out, I need you to talk to me. I don’t know what you are, but I believe you are on Astarion’s side, at least against Szarr.”

_~ you are angry ~_

I laughed incredulously. “Of _course_ I’m angry, we nearly had a run in with a monster hunter in a place where monster hunters don’t exist.”

 _~ did He sssssend a hunter through the gate ~_ The sibilant voice was questioning, and it held concern this time.

“He sure as hell seems the most likely perpetrator. I think you already know that his ex-Master will destroy him before he allows him to escape.”

The sibilant laughter, bitter and jaded, echoed through the trees.

_~ there are no ex-Massssstersssss only dead onesssss ~_

“I need you to tell me how he came to me. Was he your Gift?” I waited and the mist swirled around my feet. I watched not-Astarion stare up at the crossed lattice of the branches overhead. “Would you please just materialize already? I did what I could to save you last time, you owe me an explanation, at least.”

_~ I would consssssider a trade ~_

“I feel like we’re pretty even right now, but tell me what you want anyway. If we’re _friends,” Ha!_ “then we should be sharing knowledge and resources.”

The mist boiled a bit faster, and somehow I knew it was the thing’s frustration at my refusal to just comply with what it demanded. 

“Careful there, lest I think you are using me for your own benefit.”

The thing hissed at me in displeasure, but it still pulled itself together into a humanoid form. The edges were ragged, it was more transparent again. 

_~ hard to hold form without sssssussssstenance ~_

“What do you need to . . . to consume?” My eyebrows lowered. _Dream people, probably._

The figure slithered around my legs again. 

_~ you could ssssshare your power ~_

“What would that gain me? Would it harm me?”

_~ negotiationsssss my pet ~_

“Answer the question, and again, _not your pet._ ”

 _~ not harm ~_ Its tone was wheedling, and it slithered over my arms. _~ lossssst much power sssssince you chasssssed Him away ~_

“Fine, whatever, but you need to give me something worthwhile in return.”

_~ yesssss, of coursssss ~_

“Yeah, I’m not taking your word. Swear it.” 

The gray figure streaked my way, a slight red glow where its eyes had been before looked like nothing so much as frustrated anger.

_~ you lack trussssst pet ~_

I crossed my arms. “Correction, I lack stupidity. Swear it.” I could not explain it, but I knew I needed it to touch me for real to make anything binding. I held out my hand.

It hissed at me again, this time in my face, but it placed a tendril of its misty form in my hand. I felt only cool, damp mist. “You will take the minimum of power you need to heal, and then you will tell me how you brought Astarion into my world. Swear.”

_~ I ssssswear it ~_

A tiny shock passed from my hand, I saw it flash against the dimness, and the creature yanked away from me.

_~ you will share your power without harming me further you promisssssed ~_

“Actually, I didn’t promise that . . . but I will.” _I’m apparently getting the hang of this horror show - I don’t think that’s a good thing._ “I don’t know what you need me to do.”

_~ jussssst don’t fight ssssstay ssssstill will not hurt you ~_

The creature’s strange silver filaments, still barely visible, seemed to stretch toward me, and it moved behind me. I could feel the moment it came into contact, as a sharp power like electricity sparked behind my eyes. I blinked, and I could feel the mist envelop me - I fought to stay still despite the creeping dampness.

A sleepy feeling overcame me, as the chill of the mist seemed to sink into my bones. I could hear the sigh of the creature echo through the woods around me. Not-Astarion turned those strangely luminous eyes our way. I made eye contact with him again, and his head tipped sideways like I was a memory he couldn’t quite reach. The creature slipped away from me all at once, and I followed its movement. It was suddenly more substantial again. Red eyes blinked at me.

I didn’t feel much different at all - a little tired, maybe. “Okay, fulfill your end of the bargain.”

The creature faded back into mist, and instead the white whorls at my feet rose and created a kind of strange smoke picture. I could see two tunnels, joined at the center but without any opening between them. The mist picture zoomed into the center, where misty representations of trees rose. All around the space of the wood were a thousand tiny tunnels.

Suddenly, a bright white gathering of mist appeared in the wood with streams reaching back into one of the tunnels. From the other tunnel came a creeping figure - the humanoid creature - with a single stream reaching back. All at once, I saw a large gathering of mist above the trees, issuing from one of the tiny entrances. _Cazador._

When it faded, I could see the bright figure, _me,_ slip back into its own tunnel, but the smoky figure had a tendril still wrapped around my ankle. My figure disappeared, but the small line of mist connecting into the wood remained visible. 

All was quiet for a moment, and then a ball of mist streaked from one end of the opposite tunnel all the way through mine where it disappeared from sight. 

The mists fell to the ground, and the gray figure reappeared some feet away.

“Did you break the gate?”

_~ no ~_

“Then how did He send someone through?”

_~ foolisssssh human did you think He could only ssssseek to enter your mind He could sssssee your tie to your world and He followed it back jussssst as your lover ~_

“Unreal - are you saying if he is watching now he could send another?” I thought I might toss my cookies right there, since I had no control over when I visited this shite backwater place in my dreams.

_~ yesssss and you are waking be careful my pet ~_

“Oh, for cripe’s sake, would you _please_ stop saying . . . . “

* * * * *

“ . . . that!”

My eyes flew open and met Astarion’s as something crashed in my basement. “Astarion, I know how you arrived, and I think something else just slipped into my house.”

He kissed me on the forehead, and slid out of bed silently, taking his daggers in hand and picking up a volatile looking orange bottle from my nightstand drawer. _Looks like he made a back up plan?_

“Please don’t burn down my house with that.”

“I will take extra care, but I might need a distraction, and I have limited options.” He gave me a predatory smile and slipped noiselessly from the room.

  
  
  



	13. Needle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality hits like a brick between the eyes with "Truth" written on it.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few references to non-consent, etc. in this chapter. Heads up.
> 
> Thanks to Larian and WotC, and to my task aversion for such a burst of creativity.
> 
> Playlist add for this chapter is "Stay" by Rihanna and Mikky Ekko, courtesy of Spotify.

I was not happy sitting in my room in the dark, hiding like some idiot victim in a slasher film. 

I listened for any further sounds, but things had been silent for several minutes. It was almost a relief to hear strange shuffling steps coming up the basement stairs, even though I knew whatever was creeping up those stairs was probably going to suck. 

I had left the door open, sliding carefully to the far side of the bed and slipping underneath it. The last thing I needed was to draw the thing’s attention and get in Astarion's way. 

One of the long daggers lay on the floor next to me - if something came at me, hopefully whatever it was had ankle tendons. Barring that, an accessible brain stem? _Anatomy: the modern woman's last hope in a knife fight._

I heard the basement door squeak slightly as our visitor entered the main floor of the house. In the next moment, I heard the back door of the house open. _Astarion._

The shuffling creature moved into my visual, and a cold that sank into my bones reached my room. I had to pinch my lips together to keep from letting out a terrified sound. _What in God’s name . . . ?_

It may once have been human, but whatever was left was . . . something else. Sickly white glowed from its eyes, but in all other ways it appeared to be a walking dead body. It wore black leather armor and carried a wicked looking sword in each hand. I was sickeningly grateful that its attention had been drawn directly to the open door, but I feared for Astarion. I heard what sounded like running footsteps moving away from the house as Astarion drew it into my fenced back yard.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . there’s a corpse walking around in my fucking house. Well, the gross kind, not the sex bomb._

I had little idea on what I could do to help - frankly, nothing came to mind. Any kind of holy item that the hunter might have brought with him risked friendly fire, and it would most certainly be more difficult for Astarion to kill the thing with a weak link wandering around the yard.

Running water, bad. Garlic, who knows if that even affects normal vamps - seemed kind of lame, either way. Silver, well, I was pretty sure that was werewolves and who the hell knew what this shuffling monstrosity even was anyway. I felt terribly vulnerable, and I had no ideas besides hiding myself under my bed like a chump.

I suddenly heard the clang of metal, and I winced at the proof that Astarion had engaged the thing. I heard him laugh, low, mocking.

I heard a terrible growling voice, almost exactly what I thought rotten vocal cords might sound like. “The missing spawn turns on its Master - did you think He would not track you down eventually? I am not here for you, Astarion. He wants the Sorceress - moreso now that He will know it is She that blocks his control of his favorite . . . concubine.” At least I thought that’s what it said - the thing skipped letters here and there - I wondered if that was because it was missing important parts of its face. _Gag._ And as far as it’s comments, well . . . _Fuck you, Cazador, you rapist ball of worm shit._

“So he sends a blunt object to do the job of its betters. You would think he might at least send one of his lesser spawn.” Astarion’s voice had fallen back into the sardonic nobility that he had used when we first met. 

“He does not require that she remain human. I will . . . raise her.”

“Like Hells you will, wight.” I heard the long scrape of a boot, and the thud of something on my patio concrete. A lawn chair clanged to the ground.

“You are . . . not a Master, fool. You cannot hold a Human.” Uneven boot steps thudded on the ground. It sounded like the thing was hurt, but completely functioning. “Where will you run, spawn? There is no magic in this world, and I will find her long before you kill me.”

“She is mine, monster, and you will not touch her.” I heard the clang of a sword against one of the old clothesline poles on the far side of the yard.

“There is no way for you to remain free of him now. You should return with me, take the woman to him . . . If she is attached to you, she might come willingly.” A horrible rasping laugh followed the advice. "That is your role, is it not?" I wanted to throw up. 

The sound of a dagger burying itself in the siding of my house made me jump. _Shit, he is down a weapon now._

“I would rather kill you and anything else Cazador is foolish enough to send to this world.”

“You will fail, vampire’s-whore. You will fail, I will take you back in pieces for him to reassemble, and her zombie will remain with him for his . . . uses.” It laughed again, sickeningly. “Maybe he will let you . . . watch.”

The crunch of bone echoed across my yard, and something crashed into my grill. I saw a flash of flames and the sound of glass breaking on concrete. Flames lit the living room, visible from where I hid.

“You missed, you always have been weak . . . he only keeps you around to toss you when he runs out of fresh meat.” Fast, uneven footsteps sounded as the thing ran, I assumed at Astarion. I heard the scrape of chain followed by a screech of frustration and another sound of crunching bone. Something thudded to the ground . . . and rolled to a stop. 

I swallowed down hard, trying not to picture lovely, silver curls in the dirt.

The back door slammed. Silent feet padded inhumanly fast through the house. “Lissa?”

When he didn’t see me, a moment of panic flew across his expression. “Gods . . . Lissa!”

“I’m here, right here.” I wriggled out from my hiding place, awkward as could be, but still breathing. Thankfully.

“Shar’s mercy, I thought it got to you before it came out.” Before the second word was out, I was crushed painfully to a leather-clad chest. As lovely as it was to be held by my still-unliving elven lover, it was a bit too tight to, you know, breathe.

“Breathing . . . “ 

“Oh, apologies.” His arms loosened immediately, but my next full breath was against his mouth. 

_No further complaints here._

I swore he tried to drink me down with his kisses alone, taking my mouth repeatedly, desperate and hard. I whimpered and ran my fingers into his hair, pulling it in my hands. 

When he came up for air, his eyes flew over my face, memorizing, confirming in his brain that I was fine, that Cazador's assassin had not touched a hair on my head. 

He rested his forehead on mine, eyes closed. 

"I can feel you thinking this time." 

He chuckled weakly. “You could say that.”

“Gold piece for your thoughts?” I slung my fingers through his, kicking the basement door shut with my foot. _That’s gonna reek for a month._

“I was told I can’t think the thoughts I’m having, so said milady.” He pulled off his armor with one hand and draped himself gracefully in the corner of the coach. He tugged on my hand, pulling me onto him and tucking me beneath his arm. _I don’t think he has been this touchy-feely. . . well . . . ever?_

I patted his arm, kissing his jaw. “Good boy.” I gave a soft laugh and curled my feet up under me, snuggling in closer while such an opportunity presented itself. I would talk, but to be clear, I was cuddling Astarion first. 

“You have to know that our options are fast disappearing.”

“I know that we both have targets on our back. I know that in the last 8 hours we’ve seen the end of killers sent after us both.” I sighed. 

"I must return." 

“If you insist on this discussion - even if you left, he now knows how to get to my world.”

He rested his chin on my head. “I am aware that I am going to have to track him down and somehow kill him.” He ran fingers through my hair, clearly unwilling to stop touching me. I closed my eyes and let it sink in. 

“You did not tell me what you discovered. You had another dream?”

I did not open my eyes, just listened to his voice rumble through him. “Yes. the shadow thing showed me how it brought you here.”

“Really?” His hand stopped moving for a moment. “What did it show you?”

“It was painfully simple - it wrapped a bit of mist around my ankle and basically held the gate open. Somehow, it grabbed you and threw you here.” I could almost hear the wheels turning.

“And Cazador?”

“It said that he was trying to break into my mind and trace my path simultaneously. Each time I returned, he was able to access the path and push something through.”

“So if you do not dream, he does not have access to your world.” His voice was introspective.

I weighed that fact in my mind, feeling its edges, its shape, but I could not see how it could assist us. “Did you have a thought?”

“Mmm . . . not yet.”

“At this point, it is all speculation. We don’t know if we can even use this portal without dreaming.” I was willing to argue him down about leaving, but he was making it impossible to isolate a target to attack.

He finally let a bit of his scowl show through, slender brows cut a line downward. “That is a matter of time - if Cazador can send through his lackeys this often, then we must find a way to do so.”

“Very well. I could return to Faerun when you do, it would remove his access.”

He shifted, lifting my face with a finger, meeting my eyes with complete seriousness. “I will not have you anywhere near him - in person, he may well be able to regain control. You know this.”

His entire frame grew tense when I didn't answer. 

“Lissa, you have to promise me that you will not enter the game world.” He sought my eyes, tipping his head down to make contact. “You understand that it’s far too dangerous, that it’s a terrible idea.”

I nodded. “I know it is.”

“Good. We agree.” He laughed, a strange chuckle that held a newly sharp edge. “I had thought you would argue with me.”

_Oh, I am not arguing. I've decided. I am not leaving you to face him alone._

Aloud, I responded without ire. “I know how dangerous it is. I have no survival skills, remember?”

He hugged me hard, but was still clearly upset. Something else was still eating at him. 

"You can tell me, you know." 

"Sorry?" 

I ran my fingers over his arm, feeling the firm coolness of his skin over his lean muscles. Memorizing him. "What is still bothering you." 

"Sorry, I'm just . . . "

He trailed off, and I waited. 

Eventually he spoke again. "I don't like you being exposed to . . . my time with Him. Like the poem that first morning. The things the wight said. It is a shameful thing, even more when it is a new lover in the newest bud of romance." He sighed. "I would wish to be clean of such things, but I am not." 

"I wanted to nail that thing's tongue to a tree and throw it in the fucking river." 

He barked out a laugh. "Such violence. My _thiramin_ is a lovely warrior." 

"Anytime you want to translate that word, my curiosity awaits." 

He hummed, noncommittal, and breathed in my hair. 

When he didn't respond, I continued. "You know none of that shit about you is true, though, right?" Silence met my inquiry. "You do . . . know that?" 

"If I were less selfish, I would say that you really should reconsider your attachment to me. Those things are true - or they were I guess. I have been his . . . _creature_ ," he carefully chose the word " . . . for more of my life than not." 

"Did you consent?" 

He tipped his head back, his face stark. "Sometimes no. Sometimes I didn't fight as hard as I should have. More times, my body betrayed my mind." 

"You liked him once, then." 

He looked back at me, his eyes glassy stones in his face, emotionless. "That is . . . I admired him once. His power, his beauty." 

"And now?" 

"Now I would see him burn." He pushed a curl behind my ear. "But there are many surprising things. You are not bothered by my . . . varied preferences. Many are," he paused to find a word, "put off?" 

I laughed. "If you're good, I'm great. But," I twisted and faced him, straddling him to make sure he could see my face. "I don't like your narrative about yourself." _What the hell do you say to start breaking so fucking many gaslights?_

"My 'narrative?'" He shook his head. "I believe the word you look for is 'history.'" 

I scowled at him. "I am quite familiar with both terms, you butt. And even though you clearly don't deserve it," I have him an arch look, "I will tell you some true things about me." 

He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. "Say them nice and slow, wouldn't you? Use that voice again." 

I laughed. "Terrible. Just terrible." I leaned over and whispered in his ear, barely brushing my lips against it. "Also, ask me later." 

He shivered and I felt him move beneath me, restless. I bit his earlobe. "Pay attention, you lech." 

"Oh, darling," he gave me his sexiest come-hither and flexed beneath me, "you have my attention." 

"If you will be serious, since I learned things that you weren't necessarily willing to reveal, I will do the same. Balancing our ledgers, so to speak." 

"Oh heavens, I am all ears now." He winked. "I won't have to go ask my new social circle, Jess and Anne." 

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, it was quite the rumor at the time. She was referencing my former husband." 

His eyebrows rose. _I assume divorce is a bigger deal in his world._

"Yes, you heard me right. We're divorced." 

"Nothing I have heard sounded like a marriage, not that I'm any sort of expert." 

I nodded, considering. "Regardless, I spent a few years with him, even after he turned awful. There were things that didn't strictly have consent, but many more things that it was easier to just go along." 

Emotions simmered in his eyes, but he was clearly giving me the chance to speak. "He used words like those of our friend the wight, and more, against me, about my past relationships, about me and sex. He said really awful things, like he had to fantasize about me cheating to . . . Well, anyway. 

"I think he knew that I had seen into his heart, that I knew him for what he was. He couldn't accept that he might have been at fault." 

"It is hard for me to hear this and not kill this man." 

"Hey, great minds think alike. The river torture is too good for the rapist bat-fucker." I raised an eyebrow, my words those of a fighter, stuck in the body of a librarian. 

"Well, you were in a marital relationship, and I'm sure it made sense at the time." He leaned in to kiss me. "I was not . . . any sort of attachment. The wight had that correct at least, I lived as his whore and they all knew, down to the last underling." He took a deep calming breath. "They found it hilarious that I had agreed to let him change me in the first place. That I had been . . . infatuated with him in the beginning." 

His mouth twisted in remembered anger. "It was his favorite game to make me relive my own foolishness, over and over again, seducing others to him as he had seduced me." He paused, having let so much out in a rush. He avoided my eyes. "It was my fault though, my own naivete, and I was unable to free myself for . . . an eternity." 

I twisted an errant silvery curl around my finger. "Anyone can be fooled. For him to have done so to you - he must be everything you've said plus some. I don't believe for a moment you would have accepted anything less." 

Something in that clicked, appealed to him, as he turned his head in just that way and smoothed the curls at his neck. "Well, obviously, darling."

"I know it's hard, but you need to put his behavior on him. I have no contact with my ex, haven't for years, but Anne and Jess aren't wrong. I haven't really allowed anyone near me since the divorce." I grimaced. "It makes me so angry that I struggle with intimacy and trust now - it feels like he won just a little." 

He nodded, distantly. "Like you should be able to show him, but you just can't. He got into almost everything - he could mind control my . . . body's reactions." 

Rage boiled in my heart, and he must have seen it when he met my eyes. "Horrid creature." 

"You really don't hold me accountable? Even though I chose him from the outset?" His brow creased in confusion. 

"Do you hold me accountable for choosing my ex? I don't know enough to judge, but," I yawned, "if what you told me is true, then he likely chose you _for_ your vulnerability, quite on purpose. That I've been victimized so often by men is a sign that many will take and stop at nothing to keep taking." 

I was exhausted beyond anything, worn out from old hurts. “Do we need to do some . . . landscaping work?”

“Ha, no. Even if it were not properly beheaded, it is chained with the hunter’s manacles to the post in the yard. The sun should do our work for us.”

“That was a pretty kickass plan, you know.”

He gave a tiny version of a bow. “Oh my dear, you flatter me. Are you trying to turn my head?” He winked, adorable as all hell.

I gave him my best Scarlett O'Hara. “Flattery? Why, Astarion, any sweet things I might say are simply the truth.” I tried and failed at a demure grin, but I nailed the fluttering hand. 

His eyes sparkled, clearly on board. “Well, sweet lady,” He captured my hand gently, carefully exploring the line of my fingers with his lips, touching his tongue to the center of my palm and then following it with the smallest of kisses, “it appears I am completely undone."

He took my mouth in a melting kiss, sliding us down into a lying position on the couch. Too soon, he pulled away. He tossed a throw over us and released my mouth to lay my head on his chest. 

"You still need more rest, but I find I am loathe to let you leave my person. Sleep." 

He didn't have to tell me twice. 

Thankfully, I did not dream. 

  
  



	14. Nestled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are on the horizon, and these two are in no way equipped to have the right discussions.
> 
> Se la vie. 
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Larian and WotC.
> 
> The playlist addition for this chapter is "Kiss Me Slowly" by Parachute, courtesy of Spotify.

My eyes cracked open, taking a moment to let things sink in. I saw a black-clad arm blocking my view of my living room; my cheek rested on a very nicely muscled chest. 

_Astarion._

He held my phone above me with one arm, the other tucked me snugly against him. A small, content smile ghosted over my face, even as I recalled that everything was still on fire. 

I closed my eyes, refusing to admit I was awake. If I was awake, I had shit to deal with. _Screw that noise._

"Good morning." 

"No, it isn't." He was captive for once, so I snuggled under his arm further.

"Would it be morning if I made you coffee?" Humor tinged the words. 

Our legs were tangled together, and I slid my foot around one to trap it further. 

"Mmm . . . Too comfortable." 

He chuckled aloud. "I can't reach the coffee pot from here."

"You drive a hard bargain." I opened my eyes again, and tipped my head up to him. "And other things." 

He laughed for real then and leaned down to kiss me. "You read minds now?" 

"Did before. You heard the wight . . . I'm a sorceress. Fear me." 

"Quite terrified." 

"As it should be. Since you are properly intimidated, I will allow you to make me coffee." 

I rolled to the side, failing to suppress a grin.

He sat up and placed a kiss on the top of my head, hesitating a moment too long for the light banter. _Well at least we're on the same page about the level of crap we're wading in._

He padded toward the kitchen, feet bare, shirt untucked. I let my eyes slide over him, lean, graceful. _Yowza._

He had left my phone on the arm of the couch. _The vampire found the internet rabbit hole - Lord preserve us._

Since I had already surrendered to the day starting, I got up to take care of my very-human needs. Not going to lie, hearing him puttering about in my kitchen was . . . nice. 

_Maybe not the best time to recognize that, since my house is under attack._

Still, it _was_ notable. Not to make myself sound like a misanthrope or anything, but people tended to be a huge drag on my emotional resources. I could not remember a time when I hadn't started shoving down feelings of irritation or resentment from almost the beginning of a relationship. I stopped washing my face for a moment, thinking. 

This was weirdly . . . _easy_. 

I grabbed my toothbrush to sneak that in while he was busy - this was still new enough to not want him to see the Real Stuff. 

I mean sure, we had a whole host of problems falling from the sky - literally in the case of the nautiloid - big things. But short of an almost comical need for each of us to protect the _other_ person, and a group snark level that reached out somewhere past Jupiter, I wasn't truly annoyed. He wasn't tripping the alarm that made him stressful. 

This wasn't what I thought . . . relationships, I guess . . . were supposed to be. Something needed to turn sour, like between us, right? Relationships were work, hard work, you had to try to stick with someone because pairs didn't just . . . mesh. Always before it would be in tiny discourtesies or unbalanced expectations, maybe he would have looked elsewhere (at someone within 20 points of his hawtness scale). 

I was fully glad of it, but there was no doubt that he was way too hot for me, that kind of beauty that was restricted to movie stars or model types, not like . . . people, ya know? I couldn't look at him without wanting my hands on him, and to be clear, I was _not_ big on touching. 

But I actually _liked_ him. He was funny as hell. He was a bit of a spazz sometimes, but hell, so was I. Last night, he'd understood more of what I was saying that anyone else I knew. This morning, I found myself being silly, cracking jokes. That was rare in someone I had known for this short time. It was just . . . notable, is all. 

I was rinsing my mouth when I heard his steps in the hall. _Ha, beat him._

"Oh, hi." I flashed him a bright, and shiny, smile, resting my hand on the counter. 

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried that you are being overly casual?" 

"It might be prudent. You could . . . uhh . . . check me for weapons if you'd like." 

He eyed my outfit, appraisingly - pj shorts and a tee. "Yes, and I should be very thorough."

I sauntered toward him, running a hand up his chest and leaning in. Instead of the expected kiss, I pecked him on the cheek and slid past him toward the now coffee scented kitchen. 

An incredulous laugh floated toward me. 

_One . . . Two . . ._

Arms grabbed me around the waist, and I was pulled back against him. He growled teasingly in my ear. "I think you have forgotten your place." 

_Rawr._

"I thought that, you know, since I'm clearly the more dangerous of us now . . . " I trailed off, leaving the thought hanging. 

“Oh, of that I have no doubt.” He nuzzled my neck in a particularly sensitive spot, and I squirmed when it tickled. He tightened his arms. “Luring defenseless vampire spawn into your lair, seducing them with your charms . . . then leaving them bereft and lost to seek the next fragrant cup of coffee . . . “

"We're going with 'defenseless' now?" I wriggled about to face him, only to see him putting on a pout, dark eyes wide and doleful. _Oof, my poor heart._

I assumed an overly sweet tone and stroked my hand down his cheek. "Poor thing." He closed his eyes to feel it, and my heart stuttered. _He's definitely made up his mind to split us up. Not. Happening. Sweets._

I summoned my backbone and put on a teasing smile. "You sure make a pretty barista." Mollified by my attentions, he peeked up at me from beneath dark lashes and let me pull away, and I walked on to the kitchen, knowing he followed. “Isn’t there some folk saying about vampires with crocodile tears?”

“Most likely - I would assume it suggests giving them anything they desire. For certain, it must advise against leaving them wanting over the love of mundane things.”

“Ha! Not sure what coffee you’ve been drinking, but it is certainly not mundane.” I handed him one of the two steaming mugs and put my open arm around his slim waist. “I am also quite concerned about what stories they tell small elves.”

I teased him, but my brain sort of lost a gear shifting for the smallest second. _Good heavens, in a different life . . . tiny babies with Astarion. Ouch, my ovaries._ I swallowed. Hard.

He appeared not to notice, thankfully. “Humph, you are trying to cozen up to me.” He took a tiny sip.

"Well that's how beguiling works. You know, so I've heard." I went to kiss his chin but he moved too quickly, and instead finally caught my lips in a kiss. 

It was uncharacteristically full of . . . feelings. The flash fire of our habitual hedonism still shimmered somewhere close by, but I had a lump in my throat. 

_Emotions. Eww._

This stuff was nothing I knew how to deal with - it was one of things that we had in common. _Fuck. This is gonna be on me, isn't it?_

_So, cool news, we're screwed._

I took a seat at the island. _C'mon,_ _Brain, we can totally left-brain this shit. Maybe._

“Okay.” My voice was no-nonsense, the one I used with my students. "We need to figure out what the hell we're doing." 

A faint smile turned the corners of his mouth. "By all means, Milady Commander."

"Ha. Not even remotely." I rolled my eyes, frustrated by the feeling that things were spinning out of control. "But I think you're right . . . We're not finding the solution on this side of the Dreams. You're still infected, and that rat bastard is gonna keep finding us new friends." 

Surprisingly bright rage lit his eyes, and they looked very red in the kitchen lights. "Truly, it is no surprise - his will denies me the slightest peace." 

I grimaced, for once hearing words left unspoken loud and clear. They were my words, too. "I don't want to have to talk about him, either, because he has done everything in his power to keep you from breaking his control. To give him any more of your mental energy is sickening." I scowled, picturing his weasely fucking face. 

"I stand with what I said before." His expression was distanced, careful. "I don't want to, but that won't do us any good." 

"You are so badass." I scooted off my stool and hugged him, despite his rigid stance and chilly eyes. He didn't quite seem to know what to do with me, but his arms went around me out of habit. 

"I don't necessarily agree, but," his muscles relaxed by an inch, and his defensive humor limped into his tone, "I'll allow you to shower me with adoration whenever you like." 

"Milord is truly beneficent."

Real interest finally lit. "Hmm, I do like that . . . " 

"Noted . . . Milord." His eyes brushed with heat, but as quickly, those flames were banked. 

_Yeah, I know._

I sighed. "This sucks." 

He let out a heavy breath. 

An idea popped into my brain, and I grabbed his hand, downing the last of my coffee. "Come on." 

* * * * *

A short while later, I was curled against him in my tub, jets on, hot water rich with bubbles. I took a sip of wine. 

"Better?" 

He chuckled and set his glass on the tile edge. "Distinctly." He slid a hand over my stomach and pulled me against him more firmly. "Though, I admit, I'm not interested overmuch in conversation." 

_That is . . . quite clear._

"No fun until we're done with the work." I let a foot poke out of the bubbles, admiring my shiny, black toenails. Mutual toenail painting, who knew? 

He brushed his lips down my nape with the tiniest drag of his fangs. "None?" 

I shivered as a tremor slid down my spine. "Ahhhh . . . Okay a little."

He breathed in my scent, and murmured against my skin. "'Okay a little' . . . _what?"_

"Uhh . . . " _So much for analyzing anything._ "Okay a little . . . Milord?" 

He hummed in approval. "Very nice." His hand slid over my hip. "Now, where were we?" 

I yanked on the frazzled strings of my thoughts. "Getting back into Faerun." 

"Ah, yes, I recall. And I needed to find a way . . . in." His hand roamed. "You are paying attention to the conversation, righr?" 

I nodded my head. 

"Very good. So . . . " He slid his palms across my nipples. 

_Cheater._

"I was already aware that Cazador could enter dreams. I think we may have found his way into them." He pulled his hand away to sip his wine. 

"So how does that help us?" _Fair enough._ I slid my hand along his thigh. 

"Tsk, tsk, my dear. Hands above the water." His available hand pushed my hair from my shoulder. "What kind of upstanding public official would allow such liberties with his person, hmm?" 

_A great number?_

His arm held me firmly in place, and nipped my shoulder. "Apologize and we will continue our discussion." 

_Or I'll just turn into a puddle on the floor._ "Sorry, Milord Astarion." 

This time I felt the shudder pass through him at the title. _So hawt._

"So I believe," he returned to the teasing touches, "that it's part of his vampiric powers."

“Does that mean that . . . it’s a power . . . that is,” I took a steadying breath, “that it’s a power that the shadow thing used . . . to bring . . . Oh.“

His hand had slid down to take a more . . . direct approach . . . and everything I might have thought to say was burned out of my head, my entire focus narrowed to the movements of his fingers against me, within me. 

“Perhaps we might take . . . a short break from our talk . . . “ 

He lifted me, bringing me down on him, and I groaned with relief from his unending teasing. His attention, however, was clearly split between his desire and his . . . _desire_.

His voice was a growl, dark and hungry. “Are you well enough . . . don’t . . . lie . . . “ He did not stop his movements. 

I let my head fall to the side. “Yes . . . it’s okay . . . Milord . . . “

“Gods, that is . . . so . . . " I thought he trailed off, until the spike of freezing pain tore into my neck. His pleasure at my blood raced through him, and his movements grew rough. When I felt him let go, he took me with him, but my heart was anxious as I settled. 

He still drank lightly from me, more carefully after the last time had gone so poorly. I let the heat of the water and the feel of our dual connection drift through me. 

He only sipped for a few minutes, tasting as much as anything, but I could feel the calm sink in as my bliss went to his head. He pulled back and let his head fall back against the high back of the tub. Idle fingers traced along my arm, and we breathed together.

“Gods, woman, you are going to kill me.”

“Mmm, that’s a touch ironic.” I reached back to stroke his hair, his sensitive ears. He purred at my touch, but he shifted me sideways to rest against him and grabbed the soap.

“Liss," he began, "I don’t know how . . . “ I couldn’t see his face, but his voice was turbulent. He tried again. “I don’t know how I can . . . “ The sentence broke off . . . I swore I felt a sob slip through his iron control, though he did not give it voice. “Godsdammit.”

“Astarion . . . “

“Don’t.” His voice was harsh. 

I looked up at him, uncertain at his meaning. He did not look angry, only very intent.

“Use . . . that diminutive.” His voice calmed, but he looked uncomfortable. "When you introduced me. I mean, if you wished to . . . it would be acceptable." 

I had never heard him get so twisted up like this. "Diminu . . . wait," light finally dawned, "you want me to use that nickname? To call you Rion?" 

He had lifted his chin a bit to look down at me in his way, trying to gain back whatever he felt his stumbling had lost him. "Obviously, if you don't wish to . . . " 

"No. No, I do." Wow, he was touchy right now . . . but this, at least, I could handle. Clearly he wanted me to take ownership of the decision and, well, it was pretty adorable. "Thank you for allowing it." 

He looked at me, almost neutral, trying to cover that he was checking for any hints of mockery. Finding none, the strange pique passed, and he put his arms back around me to settle me back against his chest. 

"Names have . . . significance to my people. Astarion is . . . was of my choosing, and I am tired of hearing the name my old Master used when . . . the one he used." 

_Oh._

"Identity can change for us, too. You're in my world, so if it no longer feels like you, I'm on board." 

I gave him a kiss as he ran the soaped sponge over my back. _So he wears my name. Nice._

* * * * *

Astarion . . . pardon, _Rion . . ._ watched with interest as I ate Chinese takeout. He chewed thoughtfully on a bit of spring roll, but it was clear he was more fascinated by the chopsticks. 

I had offered to find a way that he could, you know, not swallow the stuff if it would make him sick later, but he had just raised his brow and taken another bite. His eyes had sparkled with amusement - it appeared his stubborn refusal to explain had taken on a life of its own, and he found it funny. 

"Such efficiency."

"Hmm?" His comment pulled me out of my thoughts. _Oh right._ "It really is."

"Shall we try to resume our planning?" 

"Yes." I made a face. 

"I would have you safe." 

I nodded, avoiding his eyes. "I would be safest _with_ you."

"You disagree with me, as I suspected." He gave me an exasperated glance. "You continue to mislead me." 

"You know my opinion, but you won't consider it even if it is shared." 

He scowled at me. "That is untrue. I considered it, but it is too risky." 

"Good God . . . _Rion_. . . you clearly were in the right career." 

He preened at my words. "Thank you." 

"It wasn't a compliment!" 

"If you say so. So you think that the shadow creature might share Cazador's dream abilities." 

He dipped the very tip of his pinky in the red sauce, and tested it on his tongue. He made a disgusted face, and delicately wiped the remainder on a napkin. 

I snickered, and he stuck his nose in the air, nobly offended. 

I spoke carefully. "It seems to make sense - it entered the dream space, albeit not through its own portal. And it claimed to have tracked down your doppelganger, so it must have some way to travel." 

He nodded slowly, thinking. "This creature, then, may be my way back into the game world." 

_Our way, thanks._ "I am not certain it will agree - it was the one that dragged you here in the first place."

"Oh, I suspect you could sway it - it clearly has some fascination with you. Otherwise, why would it have sent me to you as a gift?" He winked at me, so I tossed a crispy soup cracker at him. He ate that, too. 

_Why did it, indeed?_ "I have concerns that we don't know why it did, not fully, but that it's important. Still," I took another sip of wine, "it's more of a plan than we had before." 

"You feel the Dreams are connected to the game itself. Shall we see if it triggers one?" He finally quit nibbling at the food and returned to his wine. 

"The last one was caused by _something_ else." _Ahem._ "I say we give it a couple days to see if one comes on its own - if not, then we try that second." 

"If you take issue with your vampire lover drinking from you, my suggestion," he took a sip, "is to taste less delicious." 

"Like the red sauce?" 

"Precisely. Maybe not _that_ horrid, though." 

"You know, some people love it." 

He arched that lovely slender brow. " _You_ did not eat any either." 

"I'm not one of those people." I grinned. "So, what should we do while we wait for me to transport more of Cazador's thugs to my house?" 

His eyes sparkled. "I was wondering if we might locate one of your . . . libraries."

 _Oh, Hottie, you are such a closet nerd._ "I think I have just the thing." 


	15. Navigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events are accelerating on the page - I stopped here because of length.
> 
> It seems likely we will see the birth of Part 3 next week already. Tentatively, that part would bring us to the end of EA, and then we will see what folks like Chubb find me for content. I have heard people would like to see our duo v Cazador. Me too. :D
> 
> This chapter got heavy, because we all know that Rion has made some shite choices.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC and Spring Break for practice teaching. Seriously. (^_^) Vm
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos, by the way. Always a surprise and a moment of calm in the current cluster that is my university term.
> 
> Add to the playlist for this chapter is "Never Tear Us Apart" by Bishop Briggs, courtesy of Spotify.

So what do you do when you have two days, more or less, before you’re probably going to have to undermine your maybe-boyfriend by breaking into a made-up world to kill his old vampire mafia boss and save you both from spending eternity as his undead enforcers and/or worse? 

_Drink and clear your frigging bucket list, is what. Good thing nothing about this is stupidly complicated, cuz that would sure be a dumpster fire, huh?_

Right this moment, it had me breaking my pandemic rules at a seating area on the study floor of my university library. Rion pored over everything I could find him on vampires. There was a ton. 

So. Much. Stuff. 

I should clarify, for posterity, that I _did_ feel a little guilty for potentially misleading him. I mean sure, of course I did. Did that change my determination to _do something_? Hell, no. I would weasel out of flat-out lying for as long as I could, but if it came down to the high road or protecting him? I’d accept my consequences when they came and do it without batting an eye.

Besides, there was no guarantee he would make it back. _I'm with him._

Still, I felt like crap about it, especially because I knew that I could run face first into Consequences that would impact him too. However, I hadn’t heard a single scrap of evidence that said I'd be safe in my house if Rion left. Or anywhere for that matter. So if the only thing he was going to accept was for me to sit on my hands and let the world end? Sorry, baby, but you’re off the group chat.

It's just . . . the first time I heard what Rion went through for 200 years, I decided that it would be my characters or that rat-faced chunk of guano. That was before the bastard came at me in my own house. At this point, I didn’t care if I had to get ass drunk on rum and holy water and become a kamikaze vamp snack - stick a fork in him, Cazador Fucking Szarr was done.

I returned my attention back to my own research, which, no surprise by now, was going amazingly well, I hadn't been this creative in years, yadda, yadda, yadda. _Maybe I should be trying to invent the next Facebook or something. Look out, Zuck._

"What are you working on?" I hadn't noticed that he'd been watching me. 

"Oh, uh, yeah. It's just a work thing." 

He waited patiently for me to continue. 

I shifted self-consciously under his regard. "I'm a . . . scholar, I guess would be the equivalent? I taught students with learning difficulties - now I teach their teachers." 

_Talking about myself - ugh._

"And this is your university, your . . . place of employment." 

"Yes. I'm not teaching right now, because I'm writing a book about the ways kids like me communicate. Others tend to think we are being rude, but it's because we have alternate cues and behaviors. For instance, we find eye contact to be uncomfortable - overly familiar."

I saw a smile ghost over his face, barely a whisper. _Yes, I do make eye contact with you. Yes, that matters._

"I'm a bit of a, uh, justice warrior, too." I was rambling beneath his focus. "I suspect you and I would probably have . . . differing views on some things, though."

"This I need to hear." He grinned, already sensing a challenge. 

_Oh, balls._ I had been pretty deep in my own head, so of course my mouth had just gone running off a cliff. _Dammit, self, would you learn to quit talking while you're ahead?_

"You want me to lecture you on intersectional social justice theory?" _Hoo, boy._ " _Terrible_ idea - we're totally going to fight." 

"And you said _elves_ are elitist." I scowled at him. "I'm sure I can search on your Google for you." 

_Ahhh!_ "My God, I've created a monster." 

"Well you've certainly done _something_ with one." His words were teasing, and his eyes sparkled. "Some might think you're worried you might lose the argument." 

_Like Hell!_ "It unfair to use an Autist's depth of knowledge against them - you know I can't say no, now." Of course, I had already been sifting through what I knew of his life for a comparison. "Okay, so you know how you mentioned the concern that I might freak out to hear that you're usually drawn to men or, I would wager, that you like looking pretty." 

His eyebrows were high. Whatever he thought I was going to say, that wasn't it. "Indeed, the plot thickens." 

"You're also an elf in a human city and a vampire spawn besides, the only part of your identity that you hide." 

He didn't comment, but his attention was fixed. 

"Well, as you know, people get treated poorly for their race in Faerun. Here they receive that negativity for having learning difficulties, different skin color, or . . . other things." 

"You're being evasive already?" 

I winced. "Because . . . ugh. Okay, fine . . . but you _asked_. Some are treated unfairly for having a different way of living . . . or being part of a certain group."

"Like the tieflings, then. I think I see where you are going." He waved a hand. 

_How big of a hole am I digging?_ "Not _just_ the tieflings, though, right?" 

He gave me that damned, stuck-up face. "You're on about the Gur, then. I have only ever described what I have personally witnessed of them." His face had gone alarmingly neutral. 

"What was the law you passed that brought the mob to your door?"

His eyes shifted just slightly to the side. _Well, that's not_ great _._ "There had been a rash of crimes in the city; several Gur had been apprehended for stealing. I passed a law to eject the caravans from the city." 

"Who all did that include, exactly?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "The _Gur_ , darling." 

" _All_ of them? Even the innocent ones? Like, families and stuff?" 

He scowled, still defensive after 200 years. "They gave me little choice - they were protecting each other, claiming the right to try their own people. Ridiculous. They had people lined up in the street complaining about my ruling - but they would not talk reason." 

"Were they just in the city temporarily or had some of them been settled for a while?" 

"I fail to see the difference." 

I rubbed my forehead. "Found where we diverge." 

He blinked. "Your idealism is unsurprising, considering your overly-positive view of my kind. Some cannot allow such things to sway their judgment."

I fought down irritation at his dismissal - this I was _too_ familiar with. "I'll remind you that you've benefitted from my opinion of vampires." I winked to lessen the sting of my words. "But, to return to the point, if "such things" are not part of your judgment, you consider only part of the case. Worse, you bring their entire community into the _sentencing_ after refusing to address their concerns in the _trial_." 

"You sound like one of their barristers." He looked like he had eaten something sour. 

"I told you we wouldn't agree." 

"Well, you aren't seeing the unending stream of victims who demanded justice for their losses. Or, to put a finer point on it, the group of ruffians who endeavored to relieve me of my life." He clearly believed that was his master stroke. 

"True." _Sorta._ "I wonder - were your opponents arguing that they would be ruined or starved if you put them out?" 

His jaw set, and he did not answer. 

_Tread lightly, don't need to light the library on fire._ "Don't scowl at me. I'm simply pointing out that we killed the monster hunter for threatening _your_ life. Perhaps they felt your decision would kill their loved ones." 

I gentled my voice again. "Besides, I doubt most city officials elsewhere had such fair-minded people as yourself." He relaxed a bit at that. "They likely feared that the law would not look on them with a just eye."

He let out a sigh. "You realize that those who demanded the law be passed would have simply had me replaced with someone more biddable? I was a magistrate, not a king - and as you pointed out, an elf besides." 

"Compromise is often the hardest side to defend." I shrugged. "Still, it remains that unless you had no individuals from _other_ groups that committed crimes, punishing the Gur as a group for the actions of a few was . . . _unjust_." 

He eyed me, considering. "You are certain you are not a barrister? You have quite the persuasive tongue." 

"Not at all - you already know that you have multiple things that are making things a struggle for you based on the ideas of others. That's intersectionality, and the only ones who aren't getting beat with it are the ones that hold all the power while we bicker amongst each other."

"Well, if you need a second employment option I suggest law."

I laughed. "The literal-minded do not handle the practice of the law well. The first corrupt politician I dealt with might get throttled . . . Oh." _Wait . . . hang on._ "Rion, can I ask you one more thing?" 

"I confess, I'm a bit afraid to ask. You seem to make 'up' sound remarkably like 'down.'"

I barked out a laugh. "Well, we are all standing on a large sphere, so . . . " I returned to seriousness. "Did you argue on behalf of the Gur with the town leaders before you passed judgment?" 

"Oh course! Thank you for realizing that. It was quite frustrating. Neither side would give any ground." 

"And after you were turned . . . did your ruling stand?" 

"Certainly. The Gur had killed me, sating their thirst for revenge, but the tide turned against them for the attack." 

"Sounds to me like your death was a political hit."

"Sorry, what?" His eyes narrowed, and his brow creased. 

"They worried you might be swayed, so they used the anger of the Gur to give you to Cazador. The Gur were appeased, they could install a magistrate with fewer scruples, and Cazador would take you out of their way for good - plus they gained standing with Cazador himself."

"Bloody Hells." 

"Bloody fucking politics, more like. I hate people."

"Assassination by mob - those rutting bastards. And to think, I opened my best wine for them, too." 

I gave him a pitying smile. "That we can make up for, at least. If you want to get out of here, you've got like 12 books there - let's borrow them. " 

"Borrow them? They let you just . . . take them?" He looked stunned. 

"Yes. I can keep them for quite some time too, because of my job." 

"Well, by all means . . . I'm promised wine, after all, and I'm feeling the sudden urge to drink."

* * * * *

"Lissa, you brought a _friend_ today?" Mia's eyes lit on me over her mask, a Big Question hovering front and center. 

"Yeah, uh. Rion, this is my friend Mia, Mia this is Rion Aster my, um . . . "

" _Boyfriend_ , darling, don't be coy.” I nearly choked on my tongue.“So lovely to meet a friend of my Liss."

"Same." She raised her brow at me. "You're a . . . Brit? 

I jumped in smoothly. "Yes, we met through work. Rion is a . . . medieval studies professor in London." 

" _Interesting_. I wondered where you’ve been all this time. Clearly the answer was _busy._ Are you eating?" She turned toward me, but she slid overly wide eyes towards him and then looked back at me and blinked. 

_Oh, girl, I know._ "No, just drinks today. We've been researching all morning." Rion put his hand over mine and gave me a warm look. Mia was going to have a coronary at this rate. "Mia is a sommelier, and she is frankly fabulous at it. She’s never missed her mark." 

"Flatterer. Seems like you need something special for today, yes? Any preferences?" 

Rion spoke before I could. "Red - nothing too dry."

Mia clearly smiled behind her mask. "Damn, Lissa, when you finally pick one, he's British and knows his wine? I'm coming to you for pointers." 

I resisted the urge to facepalm. "You are more than capable. Bring three glasses if you have the time?" 

"We're past the lunch rush - let me go see what sounds fun." She turned and left the patio - I sank a bit deeper into my coat, less from cold than from the social exposure. 

He chuckled, immediately catching my intent. "You have no objection to my placing a label on our status, I trust?" 

I didn't look up. "N-no, I was just surprised." 

"Good." He strung his fingers through mine. "Perhaps I did not follow proper protocol by assuming?" 

Something in his words rang false - I suspected that he understood very well how that particular protocol went. He was from Faerun, not Mars. I narrowed my eyes, but I wasn't fooling anybody, either. 

A little part of me was stupidly happy. 

"Usually it is by mutual agreement, but this was certainly simpler. I was . . . unsure of your opinion on the matter." 

He shook his head, amused. "You accept my nature, but you question if my intent is honorable? You, my dear, are a bit odd. Adorable, but odd."

"And you have an odd way of asking a girl to be in a relationship with you." My voice was for once as silky as his, as I called him on his shit. "Effective though." 

His eyes showed the contented predator behind the mask. _Sneaky ass._

Mia came back out with a bottle and three glasses. She presented the bottle to him with a flourish. I wondered if he knew that she was testing him. I shot her a quelling glance, and she gave me an innocent look in return. 

I had no concern, having seen him handle the wine at home, and I was not disappointed. In truth, it was like watching two artists perform in tandem. Cork, swirl, sniff, sip - he was so smooth at times it was scary. 

I had worried about the fangs, too, but he managed to make the dance with the mask look flawless. 

Mia was charmed despite herself, sitting at a close table for distance. “So, then. How is all this working? Are you planning to return to Britain?”

"I have a situation that requires my attention, yes, and then we will see." He met my eyes. 

"It's up in the air - I might go along for a visit." My face was friendly, but my eyes were rebellious. 

Rion sat back in his chair, sipping his wine, eyes locked against mine. "Of course, we've agreed that the situation with the _infections_ and her _safety_ are of prime concern." 

"Ugh." Mia refilled our glasses. "Dating in the pandemic. I don't envy you that little problem." 

“Yes,” I took a long sip. “It’s being a real _pain_ in the _ass.”_

If I hadn’t known him so well, I wouldn’t have noticed the immovable will that lit his eyes. “Everything will resolve with patience, of course.”

Mia laughed. “Have you met Lissa? Good luck with that.”

“Thanks for your support.” I sent her a joking look, but inside frustration roiled. _Dammit, Rion._

“No problem. So where have you been anyway, I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I’m on sabbatical - writing a book.”

“Well, look at you, being a grown up author and stuff.” She eyed Rion. “You’re not going to let her study herself into an early grave, right? She’ll just crawl right into a musty book and suffocate.”

He gave her a smooth close-mouthed smile atop his frustration. “I suppose I will likely follow her, should she make such a poor choice, and then we’ll both be _doomed_.”

“Ha! He’s funny too?" _Oh yeah._ _Hi-frigging-larious_. "You have a brother or a cousin or something, Rion?”

“Too many, actually.” He accepted the last of the wine from the bottle, but his eyes were for me. “My home is practically _crawling_ with innumerable souls like myself. I’ll bring one back for you, perhaps, if you could give me some idea on your required physical specifications.”

“I trust your taste.” She winked, then stood and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I need to get back to the bar, not that anyone’s in there, of course. Don’t worry, kiddo, it may pass like a stone, but . . . “ She sent Rion a friendly smile. “Not sure what advice to give you . . . keep some good wine on hand, just in case? If she gets pissy, she keeps a stash of emergency smokes on the porch.”

He laughed as she returned to the indoor part of the restaurant . . . then shut it off like a faucet and turned back to me. “Why do you persist in questioning my decision?”

“Probably because it should be _our_ decision.” 

He still held my hand in his, and he ran his fingers over my knuckles. “I know you will not see it from my eyes, but you would be terribly vulnerable there.” He clearly still hoped to sway my mind. “I cannot help but see your human fragility, Liss. Even I have harmed you when my intent was otherwise.”

“I can be tough if I need to be.”

“I don’t want you to _have_ to be. I am not in practice at being a protector - despite your unfounded belief to the contrary, I am a killer. It is what I excel at.”

"You can't ask me to be happy about you leaving. Letting you think that I am would be a lie of the worst sort." 

He shook his head, but his eyes were conflicted. "You don't accept any hint of middling feelings, do you?" 

"It's probably the ginger hair." 

"It's definitely something." 

* * * * *

We left Mia's and made a couple more stops - liquor store and groceries. _De rigueur_ for me, some crazy futuristic shit for him. I just let him lose his head for a bit. 

By the time we headed back toward my house it was later in the afternoon. I was feeling the stress of falling asleep and possibly having to convince that damned shadow thing not to be an ass. 

_I'm sure it will go smashingly._

It would help if I had any clue how to control the Dreams. Since I didn't, I had no idea when things were suddenly going off the rails, and it was freaking me out. 

He insisted on taking all the bags in, and I didn't complain. 

"Have you ever heard of anything like that shadow guy?" 

He pulled out the wine. "I have not, unfortunately." 

"Just trying to figure out what it might want. It's really big on transactions, and it lies like a rug."

"Well," he uncorked the bottle, and poured for us both, "what did it trade for the last bit of information?"

I took the glass from him, and took a sip. _Sure ain't Mia's._ "It was looking sick - I let it siphon some of whatever power I've got in there. It looked better immediately." 

He paused with his wine mid-swirl. "I'm sorry, when did we decide that I was sharing you?" He actually looked . . . put out. 

I choked on my wine. Coughing, I responded with disbelief. "Sharing . . . With that shadow thing?" My eyes watered, but I held his gaze. 

"Well, what would you call it?" He grumbled into his wine glass, pouting. 

"Well, I mean, I don't know . . . but it wasn't like _that._ Ugh."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Darling, I'm not sure you're the expert on that." 

I threw up my hands. "And if that is the payment it demands again? What would you suggest?" 

He scowled. "I don't know, but I don't like the idea of you letting the thing . . ." He trailed off. 

" . . . Yes?" 

He lifted his chin. "You're mine, and I forbid it. I won't have some dream creature all over you to get back to my world. We'll find another option." 

My breath huffed out. "It's not a problem, it's just energy or . . . whatever."

"Lissa." His voice was falsely light, considering, a hunter waiting for something to fall into its trap. 

"What?" 

"Why do you think I chose you the night at the camp instead of one of the others?" 

"I don't know, because we were more friendly, I guess." 

Satin words slid over me. "It was because feeding is akin to sex for vampiric creatures like myself. Quite simply," he set his wine down and slid behind me, "it was because you were driving me to absolute distraction, and I intended to have you. I am _trying_ to protect you now." 

_So many things are wrong with that. Fucking hell, Rion._ "So you're rape-y _and_ jealous - this isn't helping your case." 

He took my earlobe between his teeth and growled.

"You could at least admit it. I know you will have to feed on other people again, and it makes _me_ want to shove an ice pick into their eye." 

He released my ear, but pushed me off the stool, shoving me forward into the countertop of the island. He murmured into my ear, his voice at its deepest, small threads of anger still laced within. "I like the idea of you helplessly furious, wanting it to be you." He whined. "Oh, that I could drain you to exhaustion and force you to watch me drink from them." 

I held very still, too late recognizing that I had been speaking with his monster. _Oh, no._ "You don't want that." 

He moved against me, let me feel his reaction to my jealousy. "I beg to differ." He scented my neck. "Very well, you want your sweet nothings from your _preciousss_ vampire." He hissed slightly and he nuzzled my jugular. "I will light the world on fire to take vengeance upon anyone daring to take their pleasure from you." 

He jerked clothing out of the way and took me hard against the counter. He braced his arm and continued his rough possession. "You will . . . agree. None will . . . touch . . . you again. Say it, promise."

My head was swimming at the rapid settings of emotion and discussion. "I promise . . . Just yours, Rion." 

"Try again." 

"I'm yours . . . milord. I promise." He gave a grumble of approval before savaging my neck. He brought his hand down to help me with his roughness, but his words hit hard, and he pushed me over the edge into release, leaving me gasping against the counter. 

He followed soon after with a growl into my neck, then spun me around and devoured my mouth with his leftover frustration, words slipping out of him between kisses. I tasted blood. "Mine, dammit . . . Bloody well mine. I need you to be for just . . . me." 

He pulled me to him, with all of my pent up emotion and fear flowing in his veins, burying his face in my hair. 


	16. Interlude 3:  Non-Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, a long Dream, and a widening aperture for our protaganist.
> 
> Chapters 15 and 16 are new today.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Larian and WotC. 
> 
> Since this is only a dream, the dreams are silent.

_Okay, you motherfucker. Time for a mob-style, sit-down chat._

"Come out! I’ve got no patience with your games right now." 

If I had wondered if the blood-sharing, or whatever metaphysical thing it did, was a way to access the Dreams, that had just been confirmed. The wood remained unchanging around me. Not-Astarion appeared to be writing with a stick on the ground. 

_~ welcome back my pet looking for me were you ~_

"Actually, yes, and this might surprise you, but I'm not your pet." 

Hissing laughter echoed through the trees.

_~ I know what you want ~_

"Then let's make this easy for a change, and tell me if you can do it."

_~ not sssssafe for you he will be angry that would be problematic ~_

"I don't give a shit if . . . You-Know-Who is mad. With luck, he can burn in the sun _still_ mad."

_~ wasssssn't ssssspeaking of Him alwaysssss amusssssing thessssse little chatsssss of oursssss mortalsssss are usssssually ssssso dull about their own death ~_

I glared around me, since it had yet to show itself. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." I sighed. "Who did you mean then? Are you coming out or not?" 

_~ why trussssst you ~_

My temper finally snapped like an overstretched rubber band. "Excuse me? I could have fucking _died_ for you and whoever the hell _he_ is over there, and all I got was an explanation you could have just told me, and a master vampire after me besides. I'm pretty much done with everyone's fucking bullshit right now." 

For once, there was no laughter. 

_~_ _he will be angry but if you will ssssswear “_ The voice snickered, there was no other word for it.

“You’re terribly funny. You and I both know you would have lied to me . . . again.”

Now the laughter rolled across the wood. 

_~ yesssss I would have my pet you are endlesssssly fun how boring it wasssss before you came to usssss we could end you without a thought you jussssst don’t care it isssss ssssso refreshing ~_

"Real cute. What am I promising?" 

_~if you agree not to reveal me I will help you with thisssss ~_

"Reveal you? Pretty sure You-Know-Who knows you." 

_~ not to him to Assssstarion ~_

"Ha. He already wants to kick your ass for feeding from me. That's a no-go for the future by the way. On a personal note, if that's what you did, you were misleading on purpose." 

More laughter flew around me. It was getting really irritating. 

_~ he doesssss not know what he isssss talking about i will show myssssself in time but if you tell him now i cannot help you do you agree ~_

In for a penny, in for a pound. "I will agree unless it will harm someone. I will not give you _carte blanche_ to hurt anyone." 

_~ your deal isssss acceptable ~_

"Fine. I swear I will not tell him what you are, and you will agree to help me and take us to Faerun." 

_~ agreed but he will be furiousssss ~_

“Yeah, well, shit’s tough all over.”

I held out my hand, curious as hell about what was going on. The mist spun out into another tendril and touched my hand, this time the flash of magic hit like static electricity. 

"Ouch!" I shook my hand but watched the mist spinning. The form was yet more distinct as it coalesced into the shape of a man, who grew more familiar as it formed. 

"Holy shit." 

The laughter came from its actual mouth this time, which held a row of needled teeth and blood red gems of eyes drowning in inky blackness. A circle of thin red lines, the same as the scar on Rion's back, cut into it, pulling bits of it away, but it was continually reformed. A strange black cloud hovered behind its eyes.

Everything else I knew as well as my own face - a corrupt version of Rion wavered like smoke in front of me. 

I took several steps back from it, as realization hit me all at once. "Oh my God. Y-you're his vampire." 

It echoed his bow perfectly, but wisps of blackness fell away from it as it moved. _"Sso nice to meet you, my pet. Sso few have had the honor."_

My stomach dropped into my feet, which kept moving back. Slowly. _No sudden moves._

“ _You are afraid of me. I do not intend to harm you - thiss I could have done before now.”_

I raised both my eyebrows. “Yeah, well, I have two deaths that say otherwise.”

He lifted his hands apologetically. _“Certainly you cannot blame uss for that, we were sso hungry and ssick. You ssaw what it doess to uss, exissting on the sspririts of animalss. You have been kind to uss, your power usseful againsst the Masster. Our vesssel iss quite fond of you.”_

I realized I had not gained any ground on him. _Fabulous._ I quit walking and tried to recall how I punched Cazador.

"Wait . . . then who is he?" I pointed at Not-Astarion across the way, who once again was watching us, his head cocked slightly sideways, with almost birdlike curiosity. 

He smiled at me, but nothing of the softness I knew had carried over. 

" **Who's the fucking guy?"**

I hadn't meant to raise my voice That Way, but my gut had a theory, and I was suddenly so furious I could barely see straight. 

His eyes had widened a moment at the accidental leak of power, as if waiting for me to attack him. _“It is our_ Aasterinian _, can you not tell? I may have . . . liberated him from a certain someone’s . . . collection.”_

“Why is he so . . . confused?”

 _“You assk too much of a Teu’Tel’Quessir quarlani, pet. He iss unaware of what hass happened to him, I’m afraid. But he iss no longer holding one of hiss old masster’s ssealss.”_ His laughter hissed - it was still not a pleasant sound. _“You recall the moment He realissed this wass true.”_

 _The day Cazador attacked the woods . . . and followed me home._ “I don’t know what those words mean. The Toe-Tell thing.”

 _“How do you have ssuch power with sso little undersstanding . . . ?”_ The creepy red eyes stared at me like I was an ant. _“Our_ Aasterinian _was a_ Teu’Tel’Quessir - _a Silver Elf in your common tongue. Such beauty and knowledge . . . the perfect gift . . . I am keeping him ssafe.”_

“Just be straightforward for once - is this his fucking soul or not?”

The cold face looked at me consideringly for a moment. _“That iss an acceptable transslation. It iss that of him which iss fae, art, lovelinesss.”_

“So why do you have it here?” I fixed my eyes on his, mistrusting everything he said.

_“He is not free of hiss Masster. Yet.”_

“Why can’t I reach him?”

_“Becausse I did not allow you to do sso. I did not trusst you.”_

“Why would you now? I can just break our agreement.”

_“No, my pet, you sseem to have ssome sskill with the geass . . . I asssumed you knew what you were doing. You will not break your word, for you cannot.”_

He had moved slowly to stand once again beside me. I took a step away, and he shook his head, something that was similar to sadness but without regret or connection passed his face. _“Why do you fear? You declared yoursself ourss. We have brought you pleasure . . . and the pain that iss a pleassure for uss.”_ He reached the back of his hand to stroke my cheek, but I flinched away. He smiled without fondness, the rest of his face angry at my denial.

“What exactly does that mean to you?”

_“Come, sspeak with him. Do try not to upsset him, he’ss . . . sstill delicate.”_

“One moment.” I was so far out of my depth. “What are you really? Are you magic?”

 _“I am . . . only recently awake . . . I do not know . . . I sshould be a cursse, sshouldn’t I? Do curssess sspeak and dessire and feed do you think . . . ?”_ He slid closer yet. _“For I feel_ ssuch _thingss when you let uss tasste you . . . you like it when we feed from you . . . and we like it very much.”_

“Don’t do that. You don’t have permission.” I started walking toward the lost soul in the trees, and he hissed at me again in frustration. “Does he see the woods as we do?”

_“No . . . it wass one ssmall bit of extra power, but I wanted him to feel more . . . at home.”_

Between one blink and the next, the blackened trees and moldering ground were as lovely as Ethel’s illusion. I stopped dead and looked around. “Are you like the hag, then?”

He sneered. _“The hag iss a creature, rotten and dissgussting . . . thiss iss now my woodss, and it resspondss to me.”_

“Where did all this power come from again?” _Please don’t say from me._

 _“You are ourss, and you sso kindly sshare with uss.”_ The gemlike eyes appeared to nearly soften. _“We are not a monsster, we recognizze your assississtance, my pet. You have helped uss work for our freedom from the Masster.”_

It was strange walking through the warm grass, with the sun and the rustling leaves. His soul stared at me from those strange eyes, light blue with flecks of shimmering gold falling through them up close. The vampire melted back into the hazy air.

_This is so strange._

The figure in front of me smiled a little distractedly. ~ _Why is it strange? ~_

I jumped at the smooth voice that invaded my mind. _You can hear me?_

_~ Certainly. I have been listening to you. ~_

_Are you okay here?_ I looked closely at him, but could see nothing but liquid silver curls and opalescent blue eyes looking at me from skin that I was not used to seeing so . . . alive.

_~ Yes. ~ He looked around him, somewhat confused. ~ I don't know how I came to be here, things are all foggy. ~_

_Do you . . . know me? You looked at me the other day like you might._

_~ I am not sure. There is something . . . Apologies, I must know you, I did not mean to upset you. ~_

I wiped off the tear that had snuck out with my hand. _That's all right. It is good that you are here to . . . recover. Maybe it will take some time._

_~ I know that you are . . . someone special to me, is that right? ~_

His lovely moonlit forehead wrinkled slightly. 

_Yeah, it is._ I held out my hand and he took it. It was slightly unreal, like he was part illusion or someone’s idea of a hand that didn’t quite understand physics.

_I am going to try to get you . . . home, okay?_

His eyes became a little sad. _~Do you know my home? I can’t quite recall . . . ~_

My stomach dropped, and I was back across the blackened woods again. The vampire scowled at me. _“I assked you not to upsset him. You really musst learn to comply.”_

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He hissed, irritated. _“You will wake ssoon.”_

“So what is the plan?”

_“Be ready . . . I brought you here thiss time, but it ussess power to do sso. I do not believe He iss here to follow you thiss time, but it iss dangerouss. Next time we may not be able to intervene.”_

“How long?” I didn’t want to leave without any firm answers, but he had been right before about me waking.

 _“Perhapss a day . . . I will work with all sspeed to open the door for you, he iss eassy but you are not . . . There iss only one thing.”_ He looked into my eyes intently. _“I can not make him remember you - you will have to meet uss again. I will try to make him remember.”_

I nodded, disappointed but accepting. “One last question: why are you helping? Are you planning something?”

He smiled widely, predatory and possessive. Terrifying. _“Becausse you will help uss get free of Him. Becausse we want to be with you, and he will never bring you on hiss own. He iss weak and controlled by hiss fear.”_

“Don’t talk badly of him to me, vampire. He has been through enough shit because of you and that hairball of a master vampire.” I glared at him. 

His laughter hissed again as he faded from his form. _“He would be dead without me, my pet, and then you would never have known him at all. He liess to you by ommisssion. You do not know all of why he wass . . . chossen by our old masster to be my vesssel. Do you truly believe he wass not involved with our Masster before hiss death . . . ?”_

I was left blinking at the mist as I felt myself wake

up.


End file.
